


The Rest of Their Lives

by zhedang



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Age Difference, Age Swap, Depression, Domestic, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reincarnation, Slow Burn, Trans Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 88,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3290873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhedang/pseuds/zhedang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In one life, Eren Yaeger died at twenty-two years, three months, and twelve days of age. In another life, Özgür Gözübüyük, twenty-two years, three months, and twelve days old, started crying in the middle of his molecular biology class. </p>
<p>A different sort of reincarnation fic. If one day you suddenly remember an entirely different life, what happens to the identity you held up until that day?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PART ONE

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE MOVING ON:  
> My tags on the fic itself are rather sparse, so if you need to be cautious of possible triggers, please take the following into consideration: This fic deals with various mental health issues, notably depression, suicide, derealization/depersonalization, common PTSD symptoms, and some ableism. It also brushes on transphobia and dysphoria. There is also a very brief mention of sex work. While I personally do not feel like anything is written vividly or descriptively enough to be triggering, you know yourself better than I do, so please read with discretion. If you have any questions, feel free to message me on tumblr (zhedang).

**PART ONE**

In one life, Eren Yaeger died at twenty-two years, three months, and twelve days of age.

In another life, Özgür Gözübüyük, twenty-two years, three months, and twelve days old, started crying in the middle of his molecular biology class. The people sitting nearest to him turned to stare when he could no longer keep his sobs quiet. After a couple minutes of trying and failing to calm himself, he jammed his notebook into his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and stumbled out the room. By the time he made it back to his dorm, his eyes were clouded and burning, his breath quick and ragged. His roommate, Chloe, greeted him with a distracted “Hey,” but when he didn’t reply she looked over her laptop screen and asked, “Oscar, what happened?! What’s wrong?”

He didn’t know. His head hurt like a thousand needles were crammed inside, and _everything_ seemed wrong: the wide, open campus he’d crossed, the furniture and appliances crowding the dorm, Chloe’s dyed blue and green hair, even the brown skin on his own hands. “ **Where am I?** _”_ he said, or tried to say because Chloe’s face fogged with confusion before quickly shifting to carefully controlled panic.

“Oscar,” she said slowly, standing up and approaching him with measured steps. “I can’t understand you. Are you all right? Why are you crying?”

_It is only autumn, but the breeze bites with the promise of a harsh winter approaching. A young girl turns back to look at him, long black hair blowing in front of her worried face. “Eren?” she asks. “ **Why are you crying?** ”_

He blinked and cleared some of the tears out of his stinging eyes. “I— Nothing happened.” He dropped his backpack onto the couch, ignoring the way his hands trembled. “I just… I just need to take a nap. You need anything from the bedroom?”

Chloe’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but she reluctantly shook her head in response, and he disappeared into the bedroom. He leaned against the shut door for a moment, trying once again to get his breathing under control before giving up on it. He toed off his shoes and then shucked his jeans, unsteady on his feet as he lifted one leg out and then the other. His head felt ready to burst. Chloe still had some Nyquil in her desk drawer from the last time she caught a cold, so he downed some of it before crawling into bed and throwing the covers over his head.

He slept. He dreamed.

He wasn’t sure they were dreams.

* * *

                           

Özgür Gözübüyük was twenty-two years, three months, and seventeen days old and his life no longer belonged to him alone.

He was… he was Özgür Gözübüyük. He was. Most people called him Oscar. He was a senior in college, finishing up his Biology degree with a minor in Chemistry and knee-deep in applications to graduate school. He—

The first few days were terrible. A deep, impenetrable darkness obscured his every thought. He woke up each morning, disoriented, head pounding, and exhausted like he’d spent the night running for his life rather than lying in bed. He tried to eat, but the food tasted strange, cloying in his mouth, and he barely had an appetite anyway. His nerves frayed to nothing, every unexpected noise startling him. Being indoors made him feel trapped, but being outside made him feel exposed.

Chloe begged him to go to the hospital, but he couldn’t bear the thought of stepping foot into one, not after the months he spent there as his sister died the slowest death possible. He hid his phone so Chloe wouldn’t call his mom and get her concerned. It was bad, but he didn’t even know what “it” was and his entire mind was too endlessly black to even think about it. He missed three full days of classes and barely noticed. The darkness covered everything.

The darkness covered everything, except sometimes he’d get these… flashes… of somewhere, sometime, someone. Like a candle shining dimly, briefly, before quickly being snuffed out.

Eventually, the flashes began to linger. And then they began to blaze with a light that seared his mind worse than the choking black.

He was struggling through a bowl of flavorless oatmeal, the only thing he’d been able to force down recently. Chloe made it for him before leaving for her M/W morning class. He didn’t really want to eat it, but she worried enough as it was, threatening to check him into... he didn’t even know where, but a psych ward seemed most fitting. The thought unnerved him enough to make him clutch the spoon and slowly bring it back and forth to his mouth. He felt like he’d eaten enough to assuage Chloe for a bit, but he no longer trusted himself enough to be sure. His eyes dropped down from the patch of wall they’d been fixed to and focused on the half-empty bowl and the silver spoon in his hand and—

_One hand is caught fast in the bright red, burning flesh and he pulls and pulls at it but it won’t come loose. Why did this happen, why now and not earlier down in that damp well? People are shouting, “ **Why now?** ” and “ **Answer us, Eren**!” they’re angry, scared, and they are going to kill him if—_

Chloe came back from her class an hour later and found him curled on the floor, lost and trembling and clawing at his hand until it bled.

The flashes continued on like that, bursting into his head one after the other like fireworks, shining fiercely until they fizzled down into a single spark. Slowly, the sparks combined their weak light, making the darkness lighten somewhat, not quite so thick and blinding.

Flashes. He thought of them as flashes even though he suspected flashbacks would be the correct word. But they couldn’t be flashbacks. They couldn’t. These things had never happened to him and it wasn’t like he could’ve repressed them or some other Freudian shit because— **Titan** _._ It was a word that didn’t even exist, so foreign that no language on Earth accepted it as their own, and yet he knew what it meant.

Giant. Monster. Death.

These… flashes… _flashbacks_ … weren’t his. They didn’t belong to Özgür Gözübüyük and yet they were his because he was—

There was someone standing out there, enclaved by the darkness—no. There was someone responsible for the darkness, trapping Oscar in it and trying to make him lose his way.

_He is Eren Yaeger, sometimes called **Humanity’s Last Hope** , a soldier, member of the **Survey Corps’ Special Operations Squad** , and a **Titan Shifter**._

He was probably going insane.

Just when he couldn’t imagine things getting any worse, they started to get… not better, but more tolerable. The constant pain in his skull cleared to an occasional throb. He slept a little more soundly and graduated from bland oatmeal to cans of soup. He still felt awful, nowhere near normal (not even in the same galaxy as normal) but he improved enough to show his face in class and trek to his professors’ offices to apologize and ask for assignment extensions.

Each journey out of his bedroom exhausted him though, physically and emotionally. He couldn’t shake the constant, prickling anxiety that each building on campus could easily conceal a dozen **Titans** behind it. And when he sat in class or even in his own living room, he couldn’t stop cataloguing exits and escape routes, jumping at every strange sound.

The darkness still gripped him. He could make out the fuzzy outlines of shapes in the night of his mind, but nothing more.

The flashbacks slowed down, but they continued. Each one left him reeling for hours, struggling to come back to his own body, back to his own mind, back to _himself_. Not all of them were bad— some just everyday scenes or even rare cheerful ones— but they all unsettled him because he didn’t know where or when they were coming from. And the flashbacks that _were_ bad…

Nothing came out of his stomach anymore, but he still clung to the toilet, pressing his flushed face against the cool porcelain. Chloe rubbed his back, trying to ease him through the last remaining dry heaves. The dorm bathroom was tiny, no room for two people, but he was glad she stayed because she served as a solid reminder of where he was.

He wasn’t sinking in a gut full of blood and broken parts of people, listening to a fellow soldier’s dying pleas for salvation. He was in his dorm, it was Wednesday, and—

“Don’t you have an exam?” he rasped. Chloe had been studying for it the last few days in between hovering over him.

She patted him firmly on the back. “I’m going to ace it, I can be a little late.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing some spittle off his chin. He had both arms, both legs, he was in his dorm, not in a **Titan**. He’d been repeating it to himself for the last hour and his brain was finally beginning to believe it. “For being so much trouble.”

“I’m just worried about you,” Chloe said. “Besides, I still owe you for Dick Guy.”

“What?”

“Last month, at Eclipse? Some dumb ass stuck his hand up my skirt, asking if I had a dick, and you clocked him? Pretty sure you broke his nose.”

It didn’t ring any bells. He shook his head, but Chloe didn’t seem concerned. “Never mind, you were kind of drunk, so… yeah, thanks. Though punching the guy was probably overdoing it. And for future reference, you’re banned from Eclipse now.”

“Eclipse sucks anyway,” he grumbled into the toilet bowl. He could definitely remember punching some jerk harassing his friend, but the friend was a blond boy, not Chloe. _Armin_ , a voice in his head insisted, a whisper creeping out from the darkness. _His name is Armin and he is your best friend._ Oscar ignored the thought and used the toilet to push himself to his feet, legs quivering with the effort. “I’m okay now,” he told Chloe. “Go take your exam.”

“If you’re feeling better, why don’t you walk with me to class?” Chloe suggested, grabbing her bag from where she’d stashed it by the bathroom door.

“Why?”

“It’s in the same building as Student Health Services,” she answered bluntly.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think this is the sort of thing a university counseling center can help with. Besides, it’s not as bad as before.”

“It’s still pretty bad. And yeah, I have no idea what is happening with you, but seeing someone can’t hurt, right? Besides, it’s not like you’re checking yourself into a psych ward.” She doesn’t say it, but he can practically hear her thinking, _“Though a psych ward might be a good idea.”_

He didn’t reply. He wanted to defend himself and tell her he wasn’t crazy, except he didn’t even know anymore. Crazy made more sense than anything else.

But then Chloe pulled out the big guns. “If you don’t do something—see a psychiatrist or a counselor or a doctor or _whatever_ , at least once— I’m going to tell your mom what’s been going on.”

“You don’t have her number,” he declared, confident. He’d checked on his phone only a couple hours ago, hidden in the back of his sock drawer.

Chloe rolled her eyes. “We’re Facebook friends. The only reason why I haven’t messaged her already is because you’ve been so pigheaded about it. But if you don’t get help—”

“Since when are you two Facebook friends?”

“I don’t know, a year? You got tired of me and Louise sending you Farmville crap and introduced us so we’d leave you alone.” Chloe caught sight of Oscar’s blank expression and frowned. “You don’t remember?”

He shook his head and Chloe’s frown deepened, taking on that concerned cast that he’d become intimately familiar with lately. Before she could say anything else, he demanded, “Don’t tell her. After my sister— I can’t have her worrying about me. You have no idea how bad Mom was when she was in the hospital. If she hears about this…”

“So get help! You’re sick, you need help,” Chloe insisted. “And I’m trying to help, but I have no idea what I should do… a-and…” Chloe broke off, her voice suddenly wet and thick, and he saw, horror rising up his throat, tears beading at the corners of her eyes. “…you’re _scaring_ me, Oscar.”

“All right, all right, I’ll go make an appointment,” he promised, hands fluttering near her shoulders, unsure how to offer comfort. He couldn’t handle crying, never could. Especially not when he already felt like crying himself.

Chloe sniffed, attempting to brush her tears without smearing her makeup. “Sorry. I’m not trying to guilt you into it, I just…”

“I know you’re not,” he assured her. “Sorry, I know I’m being stubborn about getting help. But I… I can’t…” He didn’t want to find out what ailed him because what if it was something terrible? So long as he didn’t know for sure, he could pretend that this was all some sort of freakish fluke and he’d feel better soon. If he saw a doctor and found out that it was… schizophrenia or something—that felt too final, like some sort of condemnation. And what if he had to be hospitalized? He couldn’t bear that. He’d spent too many hours sitting in hospitals, waiting for days and days for his sister to die… until finally he only wished that it would hurry up and happen for her sake and everyone else’s.  

But just seeing a counselor… that would be all right, wouldn’t it? If nothing else, it would satisfy Chloe and maybe a counselor _could_ help him.

So he made an appointment. Or, rather, he made an appointment to go through the screening process so he could actually schedule a real appointment. Maybe the counseling center wasn’t very busy or maybe he looked just as terrible as he felt and the receptionist wanted to get him help as soon as possible. Either way, he scheduled to come back and complete intake the very next morning.

The night stretched endlessly. He listened to Chloe’s slow breathing from across the room—hating and loving her simultaneously for forcing his hand—until he finally fell asleep. He dreamed about peaceful, childhood scenes that left him feeling nauseous in the morning because he remembered none of them and yet, somehow, they felt _real_.

Chloe didn’t have class until the afternoon, so she offered to walk with him to his appointment. He wanted to refuse, but everything around him felt hazy and off, like waking up hungover in a strange room, so he accepted. If he got lost walking across a campus he’d lived on for nearly four years, he’d only feel even more pathetic. Not to mention he’d probably be late.

Chloe’s chatter and arm hooked through his carried him all the way to the doors of the counseling center, where she left him with a strained but heart-felt grin. “Good luck,” she said, squeezing his wrist.

He didn’t know why he might need luck for a counseling intake appointment, but as it turned out, he had luck in droves. Because after he filled out some questionnaires about why he sought counseling and his mental health (grimly selecting “Most or All of the Time” for far too many questions) he got sent out of the waiting room to talk to the counselor that would be screening him and—

She held out a hand for him to shake, a flicker of something like recognition streaking across her face before she replaced it with a polite smile, and introduced herself as Alexis Sanders, _but there is another name for her._

“Mina Carolina,” he blurted as he dropped the counselor’s hand.

 _It is her._ Her hair was blonde, her skin fairer, her body plumper, and she was older, maybe late twenties or early thirties, but it was Mina. He couldn’t say how exactly he knew, just how he recognized her when she looked so different, but he was sure. Mina Carolina of the 104th graduating class, **squad** 34.

He hadn’t thought of her in years; she’d died so long ago— one fallen comrade of too many— but she stood here now in…

…in one of the counseling center’s non-descript yet oddly cozy rooms.

He swayed, knees buckling. How could Mina be here? Mina wasn’t real, but she— The nausea from earlier came back in full force, bubbling up his throat; his heart hammered so quickly he felt that it would surely burst; his lungs sparked and smoked because Mina wasn’t real, he was crazy, but Mina was here and if she was here then how could anything in this room be real? None of it—

A voice said something, but he could barely hear it over the roaring in his ears, his gasping breaths and thundering heart. He tried to focus on it though, to let it pull him back to— and eventually he understood what the voice was repeating.

“It’s all right. It’s Thursday morning. You’re in your university’s counseling center. **There are no Titans in this world.** You are safe.”

“ **There are no Titans in this world** ,” he repeated. The words’ sounds were not English and they were completely dissimilar to any language he’d ever studied or encountered, and yet they rolled fluidly off his tongue like he’d been speaking these words since birth.

Somewhere in the darkness of his mind, there was some insistence: _You have._

“Yes,” the voice replied. Mina, he realized, crouched nearby but careful not to crowd him. “Concentrate on your breathing. Can you match it to mine? Good, good, you’re doing good,” she murmured as he managed to slow his heaving chest to follow the steady pattern of hers.

“ **You are—** ” he cut himself off, shaking his head, and switched to English. “You were Mina.”

“I was,” she answered. “ **I am.** ”

“I’m not crazy.”

Mina’s— no, Alexis’s mouth crooked up into something barely resembling a smile. “I’d rather you didn’t use crazy. But no, this is very real. Do you want some water?”

He muttered no. He still felt like he might vomit and his head still hurt, but all that faded into the background as he tried to figure out how any of this was remotely real. “How…” he muttered, trailing off as he realized he didn’t even know where to start.

Alexis steered him gently towards a chair and he collapsed into it gratefully. She sat down as well and sighed. “When I was fifteen, I remembered dying,” she began bluntly. “It was a bit like being in the grocery store and suddenly remembering that you need to pick up butter, except a lot more disturbing.”

She cracked a smile but he was in no condition to return it. Undeterred, she continued. “I didn’t know what was going on. I told my father about it, but he dismissed it as me just daydreaming. I knew that wasn’t right though. I wasn’t the one dreaming things up; they came to me all on their own. My life in **Rose** , those years in training, **Trost**. They didn’t feel like daydreams to me; they felt like half-forgotten memories. And then I ran into Elisa.”

He raked his mind, delving uncomfortably into his new, _old_ memories, those soft glows of light all but drowned out by the inky black, but came up empty. “Who?”

Alexis waved her hand. “You didn’t know her. Youngest child of my neighbors in **Rose** , died at two from some illness. She was all grown up when I ran into her, but I recognized her immediately anyway.”

“Did she…” He paused, groping around for the best phrasing. “Remember?”

Alexis chuckled darkly. “She died when she was two. Do _you_ remember anything from when you were two?”

“Then how could you be sure you weren’t just crazy?”

She didn’t comment on the word “crazy” this time, picking up a pen from the desk beside her and fiddling with it. “Everything fell into place from there. I’d died at fifteen. I remembered at fifteen. She died when she was two. Maybe she remembered at two and it just didn’t stick because she was only a baby.” Alexis looked up at him with a triumphant gleam in her eyes. “And now you’re here. How old were you when you started remembering things?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, beginning to feel a touch light-headed. “I just... a little while ago. I’m twenty-two.”

“How old were you when you died?”

_He is kneeling on the stone floor, cold somehow managing to seep through his uniform boots and into his legs. But maybe the coldness is coming from him and not the floor. He knows he should be grateful that he is able to dictate as much of this as he is, that most people do not have nearly as much say into their own death, but it is very hard to feel grateful. He feels… resigned. As he closes his eyes, a warm hand squeezes his shoulder, thumb digging sharply into the back of his neck. He smiles thinly; this much, he is grateful for._

“…Twenty-two,” he admitted, a fierce headache mounting in his temple. He stared at his sneakers, trying to dispel the image of brown, knee-high boots. “So, this is— what, a past life?” He can’t keep the incredulity out of his tone.

Alexis shrugged, pen spinning in her fingers. “Reincarnation makes sense, doesn’t it? Given the facts, anyway. I was never a hundred percent sure before, but now that you’re here, I am. Do you have a better explanation?”

He raked his hands over his face, grimacing at his clammy skin. “How can you… how can you be like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like…” He couldn’t quite put it into words. Mostly, he just couldn’t get over how normal she looked sitting there, an absent smile on her face as though she wasn’t haunted by the specter of who she used to be, as though a past life was somewhat interesting but unremarkable, like a funny-shaped birth mark. “Like everything is okay. I’ve been… it’s been horrible.”

Alexis returned the pen to the desk, replacing it with a clipboard. He caught a glimpse of the forms he’d filled out in the waiting room earlier. “You said you remembered recently. Was that related to why you came to the counseling center?”

“It’s the only reason why,” he stressed. “Before all this, I was fine. But ever since…” He wrung his hands in frustration. “I never sleep through the night. Too nervous to drop off, and then when I finally manage it, I wind up having nightmares. I’m… I’m scared all the time, for no reason. Sometimes, it’s like I don’t know where I am, even though I should.” He bit his lip, inexplicably ashamed to confess the next, worst part. “I’ve… I’ve been having flashbacks. Of stuff from… before. But it feels like it’s happening now.” He held out his hand, which still bore the long scabs from when he’d clawed it bloody just a few days ago. “And I’m… sick for hours afterwards.”

Alexis listened, nodding and flipping through his paperwork as she did. “I’m not qualified to make diagnoses, but what you’re describing sounds like post-traumatic stress disorder.”

“Post… like what soldiers get?” he asked skeptically.

“Not only soldiers. But you were a soldier,” she pointed out.

“ _I_ am not though,” he corrected, voice unintentionally sharp. “Why would I… that stuff didn’t happen to me!”

Alexis’ mouth twisted into a brief, small frown, as though she refrained from saying something. Her expression smoothed out quickly and her entire body posture shifted into something that could only be described as soothing. “It’s not the same for everyone, but often soldiers and other people that undergo traumatic events are able to function perfectly fine throughout the event. It’s only after the trauma has passed that symptoms begin appearing. In the case of soldiers, sometimes PTSD doesn’t manifest until they’ve returned to civilian life.”

She paused, checking that he followed along before continuing. “Since it’s you, I assume you joined the **Survey Corps** and died among them. It could be that this is the first chance your brain has gotten to process what happened.”

He was about to snap at her about continuing to insist that he was the one in the **Survey Corps** , but then he was struck by the realization of just how long ago Mina died. God, she had no idea about Eren being a **Titan Shifter** , about Annie and Reiner and Bertolt, about Historia and Ymir, about how the entire shape of the war— of the world— changed after **Trost**.

In the wake of his stunned silence, Alexis hesitated and then asked, “Is there any event in particular that has been disturbing you the most? You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

He blinked at her and then a bark of laughter escaped from his lungs because what an absurd question! A single event? Eren Yaeger’s entire life as he remembered it was one trauma after another. His earliest memories were of his neighbors dying gruesome deaths from a plague choking the breath out the entire district. There were happy memories, yes, especially from his childhood, but everything else overshadowed them. Stabbing the grotesque men who murdered Mikasa’s parents over and over until they would never so much as twitch again. **Shiganshina** district’s outer wall crumbling like dry bread against the force of an incomprehensibly huge **Titan**. Starving in **Rose** and letting foul men touch private places because it was the only way for a refugee to earn enough money to eat, to live.

And then he’d joined the army and things got both better and worse.      

The taste of bile filled his mouth and he swallowed hard, shaking his head. Eren joined the army, not him. He had to keep the two separate if he wanted to stay sane. “Could I have some of that water?”

Alexis poured him water from the pitcher resting on the desk and he gulped it down, crumbling the paper cup in his hand when he finished. “So— PTSD? What can I do then? Is there some sort of prescription for it?”

Alexis held up a hand. “Hold on. Like I said, I’m not qualified to diagnose anything. I’m not even a full counselor.”

“But you work here.”

“I _train_ here. I haven’t finished my doctoral degree.” She brandished the clipboard with his papers. “I just do intake and sit in on some of the group sessions.”

“Yeah, but—”

“And this is only intake. We’re really not supposed to be talking about possible diagnoses or treatments right now. The only reason why I said anything is because I can remember how desperately I wanted answers when I first started remembering things.” She huffed a little at the end of her speech, then followed it with a muttered apology and rueful grin, and in that moment she resembled Mina so much that he couldn’t stop staring at her.

Mina had been a girl of firm beliefs, quick to get indignant when someone challenged them and just as quick to get over herself and laugh. Eren had liked her second best out of the girls in training, after Annie, and had been glad when Mina was assigned to his **squad** because he knew she took things seriously when necessary.

“Sorry,” he said, backpedaling. “It’s just—what am I supposed to do? See some other counselor and tell _them_ that I’m having flashbacks of my past life?”

“You don’t have to discuss the details. No one here is going to force you to talk about anything you say is off-limits. Just describe your symptoms and—”

“But I want you. It’s perfect. You’re here, you remember this stuff too, and you’re a counselor.”

Alexis chewed on her bottom lip, fingers of one hand tensing and releasing in her lap. “I’m not very comfortable with it. I don’t know if I can give you the help you need. Not to mention I’ll be breaking about a dozen rules.”

“Please?” he asked. “I don’t need a lot of help. I’ve been getting better. I only came to the counseling center because my friend wanted me to.” Better was a relative term, but the rest was mostly true.

It took a while longer, but eventually he wore her down and they worked out a schedule of meeting times and places since the counseling center wouldn’t be an option for their clandestine appointments. Oscar left with Alexis’ number saved in his phone, homework to go online and read up on PTSD, and a warm feeling in his chest.

Maybe he really would get better.

* * *

 

 Thanks to Chloe’s constant help, Alexis’s advice and grounding techniques, and the mercy of his professors, Oscar managed to finish out the semester and graduate. His grades were lackluster compared to previous semesters, but he _survived_ and little else mattered to him at that point. On the day of graduation, he woke up well-rested after a dreamless night and went through the ceremony and the celebratory dinner afterwards without incident.

His mother smiled and cried and took at least five hundred pictures. His step-father—or rather, his ex-step-father since he and his mom had been separated for years now—came as well and clapped him on the back, saying, “Lisa would have loved to be here. I’m sure she’s watching and so proud of her big brother,” and hearing his sister’s name didn’t hurt nearly as much as before, though he didn’t believe in heaven. Chloe graduated the same day and found him in the crowds after the ceremony to press him into a bone-crushing hug and make him promise to stay in touch and take care of himself.

He tried to take care of himself. He really did. For a few days, he coasted on the good vibes of graduating college, but eventually the headaches and restlessness and flashbacks started creeping back and his condition worsened to just as bad as before— if not worse. Definitely worse.

Since he lived at home at the time, it was impossible to hide his condition from his mom anymore. He terrified Louise the first time she woke him from a nightmare and he screamed in a language she couldn’t understand and hid from her, not recognizing her face until an hour later, after he’d fought his way back to the present. She wanted to— do something, make him see a doctor at least, but he managed to talk her down from it by explaining that he was already seeing a doctor (a white lie, but he _did_ talk to Alexis all the time) and he was working on getting better. It didn’t completely convince her, but she seemed just as unwilling to return to a hospital as he was. He did his best to conceal his attacks and unease from her after that.    

The months after graduation passed slowly, painfully, and he barely remembered any of them. He itched with the need to do _something_ —what, he didn’t know— but he wasn’t in good enough health to manage much more than getting out of bed each day and putting on a bright face for his mother. So he waited for summer to end. He’d been accepted into a graduate school—not his first choice, but a good program nonetheless— and in the fall he enrolled, hoping that he’d do better with classes and research to occupy him.

Bad idea. Terrible idea.

He made it six weeks into the first semester. He wasn’t doing very well in his studies, his suitemates annoyed him, and he had no time for anything, but he was managing. And then one night—

_He is in eastern **Maria** and he can’t find the rest of the **squad** anywhere. He must rendezvous with the others, but first he needs to figure out where he is so he doesn’t accidently wander into **Titan** territory. Panic mounts in his stomach and chest— **Where is everybody? Are they safe? Why is he alone? Are there Titans nearby or is this a cleared zone?** — but Eren is a solider and he ignores it. He can’t lose his head in the middle of the battlefield. _

_He is on ground level and doesn’t recognize any landmarks. He doesn’t want to waste fuel since he doesn’t know how far he might have to travel, so he climbs to the top of a nearby building and surveys his surroundings. The shapes of the buildings are strange, but he spots one in the distance that looks familiar._

_Automatically, he picks one of the neighboring building to anchor to and backs up on the roof he’s standing on to give himself room for a running start. The entire process of maneuvering is embedded in his muscle memory after all these years, so deep that he doesn’t have to even think about it anymore. He runs and leaps off the roof, shooting out his anchors, and soars to the next—_

The anchors didn’t catch on the building. He fell and for the briefest moment before impact it registered that he was at outside his apartment, not in **Maria** , and he was alone because he was always alone here, and—

He still had luck in droves. Someone found him unconscious and bleeding and called 911. He survived the fall with only some broken bones and a whole lot of bruising.

His mother freaked out. By all rights, it looked like a suicide attempt, though he privately liked to think that if it'd really been a suicide attempt, he would've picked a taller building. He tried to explain to Louise that it was a hallucination or something similar, but his reassurances did little good, especially when she turned her teary face towards him and asked if he wanted to die.

He should’ve said no, of course he didn’t want to die, but… he didn’t know if he could keep living like this, living a life that didn’t seem to be his anymore. So he was honest with her: “It might be easier.”

When she finished crying, she insisted in a wavering voice that he check into a psych ward once his body healed enough. Exhausted, he didn’t to fight her.

* * *

 

At twenty-three years old, Oscar was out of the psych ward and had been for a while. It helped, a little. Talking to the psychiatrists and therapists there was tricky because he knew that if he actually explained the things he experienced when he had flashbacks, they’d think he was even more far gone. So they weren’t very useful talking-wise, though he did learn and practice some more techniques to keep himself in the present when he felt an attack approaching.

They also prescribed medications and those actually helped some, enough that he diligently kept taking them long after leaving. The drugs dulled everything so that most of the time he could get through the day without any major incidents. But that was all he seemed to have energy for: getting through the day. Anything beyond that was out of reach and that included graduate school. So. That wasn’t happening.

Honestly, not much was happening. Which was good because he couldn’t handle things happening, but also bad because he was an adult living at home with his mom and with zero job prospects and he _hated_ that. His mother kept assuring him that she didn’t mind taking care of him, to just take his time and get better, but even still he hated it. It didn’t feel like he was getting better. Every day passed the same way, distinguished only by whatever trauma burned bright and searing in his dark mind.

The worst was watching a smiling **Titan** devour a woman who was and wasn’t his mother and feeling small and absolutely powerless.

* * *

 

At twenty-four years old, Oscar got back in touch with Chloe. He’d been dodging her messages for a long time because, well, she had a career and her own apartment and a boyfriend. He knew that she didn’t mean to rub it in his face that she was doing so much better than him—completely irrational for him to feel so— but talking to her felt like pouring salt into his wounds, so he’d stopped.

But Chloe was a good friend— really, the only good friend he’d ever had, much as a stubborn voice in the back of his mind tried to insist he’d had other good friends— so he got over himself and called Chloe and made a habit of calling her at least once a week. They mostly talked about her day and her plans, but surprisingly it helped him a lot to listen to someone else’s normal life. It made him feel a little more normal.

He told Alexis about talking to Chloe again and she said she was proud of him. He tried to feel proud too.

* * *

 

 At twenty-five years old, Oscar missed his friends. No, that wasn’t right. Oscar didn’t know the people he was missing. But he knew the ghost of Eren Yaeger lurked somewhere among the shapes he could distinguish in his mind’s black night, influencing him and twisting Oscar’s thoughts. And so he missed the people Eren had known: Mikasa and Armin most of all, but also **Captain** Levi and the rest of the **Special Operations Squad** and even **Squad Leader** Hange and other soldiers from the **Survey Corps**. God, his _mother_.

It was pointless to miss them because he didn’t know them and they didn’t even exist anymore. Or maybe they did, but that didn’t mean he could actually find them. But no logical reasoning could stop the yearning echoing in the abyss of his mind.

Searching for them felt dangerous to Oscar. Wouldn’t it be a step in the wrong direction? If he indulged the specter of Eren Yaeger’s foolish desire of locating his family and friends in this world, Oscar’s world, wouldn’t Oscar get lost in the darkness and lose what little of his life he’d managed to snatch back from the maw of Eren’s trauma and despair?

He texted Alexis and asked her about it. Had she found any of Mina’s friends? Did she want to?

She called a few hours later.

“There’s no one I really feel like finding,” she admitted. “I suppose it’d be nice to see my family again, but I’m not desperate for it. Besides, how would I find them? It’s not like there’s some sort of past life Facebook I could look them up on.”

They talked for a while longer—Alexis always wanted to know how he was coping and if he needed advice about anything— but a single thought stuck fast in his mind: a past life Facebook. Alexis was right that no such thing existed, but the internet was vast and often the first place people turned to with questions. Surely someone had started a thread on a forum asking if anyone else remembered **Titans** or posted a question to Yahoo Answers or… or something. Hell, maybe someone _had_ created something like a past life Facebook and they just didn’t know about it.

So he started Google-ing. He started out trying to transliterate important terms like **Titans** and **Wall Sina** into Roman letters so he could scour the internet for them, but it turned up nothing. The sounds were too foreign and he didn’t know enough about linguistics to sit down and figure out a system for converting them. Searching phrases like “past life with giants and walls” mostly turned up a lot of nonsense— pages and pages of irrelevant search results— and he became disheartened.

There were seven billion people in the world; Walls **Sina** , **Rose** , and **Maria** only ever sheltered a tiny fraction of that population. And that tiny fraction shrank even more when he considered that some of those people might not actually remember much of anything. He knew from speaking with her that Alexis didn’t remember as vividly as him… would people that lived ordinary, uneventful lives even realize that the stuff they remembered wasn’t just some weird daydream? The number of people that might potentially turn to the internet for answers was small and the sheer volume of everyone else’s voices drowned out their calls for help.

But searching the internet was the most productive thing he’d done in months, so he kept searching and eventually his persistence paid off. He stumbled across an innocuous link deep in a forum about lucid dreaming and when he clicked the link, it opened to a site topped by a banner reading **IT IS REAL. WE ARE HERE.** handwritten in the odd characters Eren had known.

His hands trembled so much that he could barely use the computer’s mouse. He forced himself to just sit still for a few minutes, reading the banner’s message over and over as he breathed carefully through his nose. Once his nerves settled, he began to explore the site eagerly, only to find that he needed an account to move beyond the homepage and to get an account he’d have to apply with the site administrators.

He filled out the application information, which included an image of a message written in the language of the time stating his name, which district he came from, and other details. He’d never attempted to write the language before, but he discovered that it emerged from his pen just as smoothly as it rolled off his tongue. He completed the application and emailed it to the administrators and spent eleven awful hours waiting for a response, worrying that he’d messed up the application somehow or that the site was no longer active.

Finally, he received a reply, but the subject and body of the email were empty, with only an image file attached. Gnawing on his bottom lip, he opened the image— a photo of a notebook with a single sentence written across the page in broad marker strokes.

**ARE YOU REALLY EREN YAEGER?**

_Yes._ No. He had been, once, but he wasn’t anymore. He supposed that was what the admin really wanted to know— if he’d been Eren in the past— so he typed back a response: _I was him. I don’t know how I can prove it to you though, if you need proof. I guess I could maybe answer questions. Why are you even asking?_

He sent it off before he could think too hard about it. Only a few minutes later, a new email popped into his inbox. It started with: _Sorry, I usually don’t question people. It’s just that you’re the first… I suppose “celebrity” would be the word. You’re the first celebrity I’ve seen apply. I mean, there was a time when everyone knew that name._

It was true, he realized. Even outside of the army, Eren Yaeger had earned not a small measure of infamy. Eren’s identity and **Titan** abilities had been widespread knowledge among the general populace. He supposed that the news of Eren’s execution reached even the most reclusive denizens within the Walls.

“The first celebrity…” That meant no chance of finding **Captain** Levi or **Commander** Smith on the site. Their names had been at least as well-known as his. Probably not Mikasa either, he decided, heart sinking a little. She’d been fairly famous towards the end, a living legend like Levi.

Still, he had to check. So he read the user information and details about navigating the site that followed the message from the admin and logged in. It was fairly straight-forward. There was a forum where people posted questions and such, but he barely gave it a cursory glance. He wanted the directory. It was organized by districts, images bearing their handwritten names making the words distinguishable, with people sorted into whatever district they’d listed as their hometown. Pictures also displayed all the area names since there was no way to type them. He could click on anybody and send a private message and they would presumably get a notification in their email inbox. There were only about a hundred users total on the site and he read each and every name, hoping to spot one he recognized.

No one.

He sat back in the chair, tired and close to crying. It wasn’t surprising. After all, the site hadn’t been easy to find. Hell, maybe no one else had even been reincarnated. He realized with a dawning sense of horror that his and Alexis’s ages were set perfectly apart by the same number of years between their deaths. What if Mikasa and Armin had lived to be eighty? He’d have to wait decades for them to even be _born_.

It made him feel like a miserable human being, but he prayed that they’d died young so the hollow feeling leaking out from his black mind would stop.

His mother knocked on the door and he bolted out of his seat. If Louise heard his startled reaction, she didn’t say anything. “Oscar? Dinner’s ready.”

“All right,” he called, taking a moment for some deep breathing before shutting the computer down. When he came into the dining room, his mom glanced up from spooning gumbo into bowls to look at him curiously.

“What have you been working on in there the last few days?”

“Um. Just some research.”

“A personal project?” she suggested, handing the first bowl to him as he sat.

“Yeah, I guess,” he muttered, pushing a piece of okra around the perimeter of the bowl with his spoon. He wondered if it was some sort of secret mom power to be able to reduce a person to thirteen years old no matter their true age.

“Hm.” His mother smiled gently and sat down across from him. “Well, whatever it is, you should keep working on it. You’ve looked so much better recently.”

“No, I just—” he cut himself and considered what she’d said. He’d only dreamed once since he’d started rooting around online. No full flashback episodes either, though he had been forced to ground himself a couple of times. Nothing major. In fact, now that he thought of it, he felt physically better than he had in years. Not perfect or anything, just… better. Illogical as it was, he’d been missing Eren Yaeger’s friends. Once he started actively looking for them, some sort of tension released inside him, making everything much less volatile.

Could he strike a balance between giving into Eren’s echoing desires and keeping a tight grip on his own mind and life? It was worth trying. At this point, he didn’t have much left to lose.

* * *

 

At twenty-six years old, Oscar started looking for work. Or, rather, better work. He’d managed to work part-time at a fast food place for five months without getting fired for calling out sick too many times, so he felt ready to try for something that actually interested him. He did have a Bachelor’s degree, after all. He’d worked hard for it, so he should use it.    

He reached out to his favorite professors, asking if they knew of any opportunities and hoping they hadn’t heard about why he’d dropped out of graduate school. To his surprise, one of them wrote back saying that she knew of a medical laboratory technologist opening at a lab run by a colleague. She said she could put in a good word for Oscar and that she thought he’d be well suited for it. Honestly, it sounded great. More than he’d hoped for, anyway. His younger self never would’ve thought that working in a lab testing samples could be a dream job, but now a stable, quiet environment with nothing to startle him sounded like the perfect place to work.

The only problem was that the job was out of state.

“I don’t like the idea of you moving so far away,” his mother admitted when he told her about it. “The last time you left home…”

“I feel a lot better,” he argued. “Haven’t I been better? You’ve said so yourself.” He _was_ better. He still occasionally got lost in memories and emotions that weren’t his own and his mental health was far from top-notch, but physically he was fitter than he’d been since he’d quit playing intramural baseball midway through college. And he knew how to take care of himself, how to balance the precarious edge between satisfying the ghost of Eren Yaeger’s impulses and hanging onto himself, Oscar. Okay, sometimes he messed up and faced the consequences and the flashbacks were still an issue, but _he was better_.

“You have been doing well. But, Oscar, your psychiatrist is here—”

“—I’ll find a new psychiatrist.” No sense explaining to her that he didn’t actually talk about anything of substance with his psychiatrist. He turned to Alexis when he needed help, but nowadays he was pretty well-practiced at handling his episodes. He only saw his psychiatrist to keep up with his prescriptions. “And I promise to call you right away if… things start getting out of hand.”

She sighed heavily, one hand cradling her temple. The gesture called attention to the ever-widening patch of gray in her black, kinky hair that Oscar couldn’t help but feel personally responsible for. “I imagine it would do you a lot of good to work a job like this. And I know it’s important to you to be independent.”

Not exactly a blessing—not that he really needed one at his age— but much better than he’d expected. To be fair, his mother had handled everything about his… illness far better than he ever would’ve anticipated. She was stronger than he’d remembered. Or maybe Lisa’s death had made her stronger.

So Oscar prepared his resume, emailing it to Chloe for advice on how to downplay the fact that he’d essentially been a recluse for years and instead flaunt all of the laboratory hours he’d put in as an undergrad. When he felt confident that it couldn’t be better, he sent his application before he could chicken out.

A week later, he interviewed.

* * *

 

At twenty-seven years old, routine held Oscar’s life together. He woke up at 6:15 every morning. He jogged and showered by 7:30. He got out the door by 8:00 to commute to his weekday nine to five at the lab. Got back home with dinner heated by 6:30. Cleaned up. He went online from 8:00 to 10:00 searching for any sign of anyone that had been near and dear to him— no, to Eren Yaeger, not him, Eren. Wrenched himself away from the computer the moment the clock hit 10:00, that was the rule, that was all that could be allowed. Put himself back together, took his medications, climbed into bed by 11:00. Repeat.

Saturdays were devoted to cleaning and shopping and cooking for the week. Sundays were for calling his mother and seeing friends or even the occasional, usually ill-advised, date. But since he could hardly spend all day on the phone with his mother and he didn't have many close friends and dates were far and in-between, he usually found himself combing the internet for his mother, his friends, his **squad** , hell, even Jean would— no, not his, Eren's. Eren's. He was not Eren Yaeger, could not be, would never be.  
  
He was.  
  
Put himself back together. Sleep. Monday again. Routine.  
  
That was the ideal, anyway. But routines failed easily. An ordinary mishap like a traffic jam would have him carefully rearranging his schedule. Okay, no problem. Those things happened to everyone. Other times...  
  
Other times, he'd wake up lost and confused and he'd wander the apartment looking for Mikasa and Armin until finally Oscar clicked back into place. Other times, he'd have a full-blown flashback— triggered by lightning too close, a face on the street too similar, the fucking steam shooting out of his fucking dish washer when he opened it mid-cycle— and he'd lose time trying to ground himself, trying to come down from it, trying to remember how to be Özgür “Oscar” Gözübüyük. Other times, he'd just be so damn depressed that he couldn't bear the weight of the day. He didn't mind those times so much. At least when he was depressed, he always knew exactly who he was. Eren Yaeger had never been depressed.  
  
Oscar was fine, really. Better at twenty-seven than he'd been at twenty-five or twenty-three anyway. Those other times, the bad times, had become rarer and easier to handle. He could deal.  
  
“Dealing” was why he went to Denny's at nearly two in the morning on a Wednesday in late May. He'd called in sick to work— first time in three months, stupid to be proud of that but he was— because he’d woken to one of those deep depression days. He'd spent the day either lying in bed mindlessly marathon-ing Netflix or puttering around the apartment and realized around one in the morning that he'd never eaten. He didn't have the energy to heat up any of his stockpiled meals, but somehow going to Denny's instead seemed like a sensible alternative. He forced himself to get acceptably dressed and groomed for public and headed out. If nothing else, it'd be good to leave the apartment and interact with some human beings.  
  
“I'll be right with you. Sit wherever you want, hun,” a server called to him when he paused at the PLEASE WAIT TO BE SEATED sign. The place wasn't quite empty. A few tables and booths were filled with couples lingering over cups of coffee and college students stress-eating through stacks of pancakes. He headed for the booth in the farthest back corner where no one would notice if he suddenly broke down over his omelet, but it was already occupied. Fine, whatever. The little table tucked beside the kitchen would do just—  
  
_Wait._  
  
He turned back to the booth and stared at Levi.  
  
It couldn't be him. His skin tone was a light brown instead of pallid, even sitting down he seemed taller, and, while he still looked fit, he was more lithe than bulky. The hair was just as black, yeah, but it was shorter, thicker. It couldn't be.  
  
_Mina looked different._ Alexis, Oscar insisted. He walked without really registering the movement, each step bringing him closer. _But she is Mina. I'm not exactly the same either._  
  
“What the fuck do you want?” Levi (not Levi, Oscar scolded himself) demanded.  
  
He was hovering, he realized. Quickly, he took in the lack of food or dirty dishes on the table. Just a cup of tea, hot water pot, and two wet, used tea bags sagging limply on a plate. A backpack and a bulging gym bag sat beside him in the booth. Vagrant? No, still too put together for that. Runaway, maybe. Maybe not. Either way, it seemed like he hadn’t eaten. “If you let me sit here, I'll buy you whatever you want to eat.” The words fell out of his mouth before he’d even had a second to actually consider them.  
  
Levi-not-Levi's eyes narrowed. "Why?"  
  
He smiled for what felt like the first time in five years. “I could use the company,” Eren answered.


	2. PART TWO (1/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which secrets have a nasty way of not being very secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Part 2, but it's also part one of Part 2??? Part 2 was originally intended to end at a different place, but as I wrote it, it kept getting longer and longer until finally I realized it would probably be best to just chop it up. And that's why y'all are getting this update early. Enjoy.
> 
> PLEASE KEEP IN MIND THAT ALL POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS FROM THE FIRST CHAPTER NOTE ARE STILL IN EFFECT.
> 
> Also, this is probably a good time to note that while this story is tagged with Levi/Eren, they do not enter a romantic/sexual relationship while either party is under-aged.

**PART TWO (1/3)**

Levi-not-Levi examined him suspiciously. Eren just drank in the sight of him. He looked younger and not nearly so perpetually exhausted, though he did seem tired. His eyes were bigger somehow, face less angular. High school age, probably. The backpack was stuffed enough to hold several text books and then some. Who knew what was in the overloaded gym bag. Despite it being May, he wore an oversized jacket and where it gaped at the neck, Eren spotted two fingertip-sized bruises, barely visible against his skin. Eren’s stomach clenched with the certainty that if he examined the area more closely, he’d find an entire hand’s worth of bruises.

Someone tried to choke him. Fury smoldered in Eren’s chest, but he carefully kept the anger off his face.  
  
After a long, tense moment of mutual observation, Levi-not-Levi shrugged and declared, "Whatever." Eren's knees almost buckled with relief. He slid into the booth before they could.  
  
"So, who the fuck are you?" Levi-not-Levi asked, pulling a plastic menu from where it was wedged between the napkin holder and the wall and opening it. The question knocked him for a loop and he blinked before remembering where, when, and who he was.  
  
"Özgür Gözübüyük," he said carefully because Eren Yaeger was sitting right at the tip of his tongue. The teenager (not Levi, he reminded himself) stared at him, a reaction he was well-used to. People who heard him speak before they heard his full name thought it was weird. People who knew his full name before they heard him were shocked that he spoke perfect English. "It's Turkish," he explained. "Name's about the only thing I got from my father before he hit the road. Mom wanted me to keep it because of heritage or something.” He was rambling. He made himself stop. Swallow. Breathe deeply. "I go by Oscar."  
  
The server suddenly popped up for Oscar's drink order and the teenager buried himself in the menu. When the server left, he reluctantly opened his own menu. He had at least a dozen questions burning in his mouth—first and foremost, _Who the hell hurt you?_ — but he swallowed them down. He didn't want to scare him off. Okay. He could handle this. He had a lifetime of experience and at least half a dozen lectures from his mom about not seeming dangerous: keep your hands visible at all times, be polite, be cordial, no sudden movements, never argue, ask permission before you do anything. Usually he only put on his very best, non-scary behavior for cops or prickly store owners, but it felt appropriate for this situation too.  
  
"What would you do if I ordered three different entrees?" asked the high schooler, still glancing over his menu. "I'm really hungry."  
  
He pretended to be absolutely absorbed by the pictures of food. "Pay for it because I said I would. Besides, you can't really break the bank at Denny's. And be impressed if you actually managed to eat it all without throwing up."  
  
He snorted softly, the exact same way **Captain** Levi sometimes would. Oscar fought to keep his eyes on the menu and not gawk at him.  
  
Eventually, the server returned. He had not actually read a single word of the menu. "The, uh, vegetable omelet thing," he ordered. Denny's had that, didn't they? “With everything, everything’s fine. And..."  
  
"Steak and eggs,” he said at Oscar’s cue. “Scrambled. And I want the hash browns, not the grits. Oh, and make the steak medium-rare."  
  
"And that for him," he finished.  
  
The server jotted down their orders and left, but not before giving Oscar an odd look. For some reason, the teenager was staring at him too. Not the suspicious stare from earlier though. Something closer to curiosity. "What?" he asked.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
He couldn't just sit there quietly anymore. His name, that was a perfectly normal, non-creepy thing to ask, right? He'd given his own after all. He shoved his menu back where it belonged, asking as casually as he could manage, "So, what's your name? Not Özgür, I'm guessing."  
  
The high schooler wrapped both hands around his tea cup, but didn't drink. "Levi."

His heart stopped a moment before it began hammering away rapidly. No way. He must’ve heard wrong because, seriously, what were the chances? “Levi?” he repeated, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice. Did he remember but didn’t recognize him? Alexis had recognized him though and this Levi was way too young to have remembered anything.  
  
“Yeah,” Levi snarled. “What, I don’t look like a Levi?”  
  
He blinked, wondering what had set him off, before deciding that it must seem that he doubted Levi was his real name because of his ethnicity. He looked Latino if Oscar had to guess, but he wasn’t sure. “No. Levi is a perfectly good name for a guy like you.” That seemed to placate Levi; his shoulders dropped from their stiff, defensive posture. Encouraged, Oscar continued. “Sorry. I really should know better than to make assumptions. I’ve been having a bad day.”  
  
Levi cast a speculative glance over him. “You do look shitty.”  
  
“So do you,” he returned, gesturing towards his neck.  
  
Levi’s hand automatically reached up to touch the bruises on his throat and scowled at him. “It’s none of your business,” he said, straightening his jacket to cover the blemishes.  
  
“All right,” he replied easily, though in the back of his mind Eren’s echo disagreed vehemently—it wasn’t all right at all. Eren wanted to find whoever did that to him and smash their face in. Levi in any form could undoubtedly take care of himself, but he was Eren’s **squad** , Eren owed the man his life a dozen times over, so no one was allowed to hurt him and go unpunished. Especially not this younger Levi. To quiet the shadow of Eren growling in the darkness of his mind, he casually asked, “So, why are you at Denny’s at two in the morning?”

Levi’s face turned to stone. “I’m waiting for someone to pick me up.”

“Oh yeah?” Even in this life, it seemed Levi was a bad liar. He could tell from Levi’s stiff tone that he was alone. No one was coming for him.

“Yeah. What’re you doing here?”

He couldn’t exactly say _“I’m mentally ill and sometimes incapable of properly taking care of myself.”_ Well, he could, but he was a better liar than Levi. Instead, he spun a tale about taking the day off work to marathon Gossip Girl on Netflix and getting so caught up in it that he forgot to eat. Technically, it was true. Parts, at least.

Somehow, his explanation derailed into a lengthy rant about the beautiful train wreck that was Chuck Bass that lasted well after the server returned with their food. Levi listened to it all, eyebrows raised in either amusement or confusion as he cut his steak into pieces.

“Why do you watch Gossip Girl though?” Levi said when Oscar’s rant finally wound down.

He shrugged. “When I lived with my mom, we’d watch it together sometimes. Got me hooked.” Not to mention it was something safe to watch. Nobody died gory deaths in Gossip Girl. He couldn’t watch horror anymore and a lot of action stuff was off the table too unless he wanted to risk a flashback.

Oscar’s Gossip Girl tirade had the unintended but welcome effect of relaxing Levi a little. They talked light-heartedly about various TV shows as they ate, though Oscar still carried the bulk of the conversation as it turned out Levi didn’t watch much TV and had the same natural reticence as the **Captain**. Before long, their plates were empty, bellies full, and Oscar no longer had an excuse to hang around. He didn’t want to let Levi out of his sight though, not when he’d just found him, and not when he was so obviously in some sort of trouble. Both he and Eren’s ghost could agree on that much. Levi needed help.

“It’s getting really late. Or early, actually, I suppose,” he started. Levi made a noise of acknowledgement, busy drinking the last dregs of his tea. “I wonder where your ride is.”

Levi tensed, then shrugged one shoulder.

He gave up on beating around the bush. “Do you want me to drive you somewhere? A friend’s house, a relative’s…”

Levi went rigid in his seat, eyes narrowing on Oscar like he could somehow divulge whether he was planning to chop him up and leave him in a roadside ditch just by examining him. His entire body radiated rejection of the idea, and yet he didn’t actually say it. Instead, he set the cup down, eyes never leaving Oscar’s face.

“St. Clare’s,” he said.

“Church?” Oscar guessed. He hadn’t lived in town for very long, so maybe it was a shelter or even a hospital.

“School.”

“…You want me to drop you off at school so you can… what, wait there until it starts in the morning? You realize it’s nearly four a.m., right?”

Levi shrugged again, back to looking just as tired as when Oscar had first spotted him hidden in the back of Denny’s. He neither confirmed nor denied what Oscar said. Oscar wondered if all this—late night Denny’s trip and then going to school like normal—was just a temporary escape from a bad situation or if Levi truly had run away or something and simply had no actual plan. He thought of the bruises on his throat and hoped fiercely that Levi didn’t intend to go back to whoever had done that. The **Captain** had been much better at snap decisions than long, thought-out plans, so Oscar could easily imagine a teenage Levi running away with no idea of what he would run towards.

He wrestled internally with his next question, but in the end he surrendered to it. After all, there was no way he couldn’t offer. “What if I took you in the morning? I mean, the real morning. My couch is pretty comfortable.”

He almost hoped that Levi would say no because agreeing to sleep at a stranger’s house was, in general, a bad decision. And for a moment, Levi looked set to refuse—hands in tight fists, body taut and ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

But then, slowly, he nodded.

* * *

 

“You live alone?”

It was the first thing Levi had said since they’d left Denny’s.

“Yeah,” he answered, tucking his shoes onto the rack and then Levi’s.

Levi set his two bags down next to the couch and walked around the living room, not touching anything and keeping Oscar within his line of sight. “It’s really clean.”

Oscar had always been neat, anally neat according to several past roommates. For as long as he could remember, he’d kept his bedroom in perfect order and made a habit of tidying messes— big and small— he encountered in the house no matter who was responsible for them. Not because he wanted to, but because he could never shake the nagging feeling that somebody wouldn’t be pleased if they caught sight of any disorder or dirt. Who, he didn’t know. His mother was a fairly absent-minded housekeeper and his step-father had been even more lax. But as he watched this Levi run a finger over his apartment’s coffee table, he suddenly knew exactly who had drilled the cleanliness into him— or, rather, into Eren. The realization did something funny to his breathing and he had to stifle a strained, almost broken, laugh over the fact that Eren had apparently taken the **Captain** ’s cleaning lessons to heart so deeply that they survived beyond the grave. “I was well-trained,” he said, managing to answer without giving away his odd, visceral reaction to Levi’s bland statement.

Levi’s eyes flickered over him from head to toe, appraising. “What, were you in the army or something?”

“Or something,” he agreed. For some reason, this amused him even further and he scrubbed at his face with his hand as though to ward off the somewhat unhinged smile he felt cracking across it. Exhausted, he recognized. He hadn’t slept well the night before and now it was past four a.m. and Levi, **Captain** fucking Levi, was standing in his living room and pronouncing it clean. Exhausted, physically and emotionally.

Inviting Levi into his home may not have been the smartest decision. This home was his, Oscar’s, and he’d memorized every square inch of it so that he could ground himself more easily before and after flashbacks. Throwing Levi into the mix felt like a disaster waiting to happen. How much of his life would he lose to Eren, lurking unseen in his mind’s darkness, over this choice?

Oscar couldn’t bring himself to regret it though.

Still, he knew he’d better get to bed and rest before anything happened. He opened a closet where he kept extra blankets and threw a bundle of them over the back of the couch. “The bathroom is that door over there,” he said, pointing. “I think I’ve got an unused toothbrush in one of the drawers, if you need it. You’re welcome to anything I’ve got.” He hesitated, then continued, “I’m going to sleep, unless you need anything?”

Levi shook his head. He took one of the blankets and started unfolding it. Oscar watched for a moment before heading to the bathroom himself. He brushed his teeth and swallowed down his pills, listening to the soft sounds coming from the other side of the door.

Levi. In his apartment. And he was driving him to school in the morning. Unreal.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Levi was sitting on his couch-turned-bed awaiting his turn at the bathroom. Oscar checked again if he needed anything before wishing him good night and retreating to his own bed. As he closed his eyes, he didn’t wonder whether he would dream that night, but instead whether the dreams would be of new memories or old.

* * *

 

The next morning, Oscar left a note before going for his jog. The temptation to break routine was powerful, but Oscar knew he’d later regret knocking himself off balance. If he was going to do this, he must keep as tight a grip on his life as Özgür Gözübüyük as possible. So he jotted down a quick message about why he was gone and when he’d be back before departing.

The air sagged heavily with humidity despite the early hour and before long Oscar was sweating. He focused on the wet heat, the slap of the asphalt against his soles, the rumble of cars passing, letting his senses provide him with irrefutable proof of what world, what life, he was in. He knew he’d dreamed last night, but the images were soft and fuzzy, indistinguishable in his mind’s darkness. Running made him feel a little better, as though he’d physically put distance between himself and Eren’s reach.

When he returned to the apartment, Levi was awake and cooking fried eggs on the stove. “Want one?”

Though he’d mentally prepared himself for it, he still faltered somewhat at the sight of Levi in his kitchen. Levi. In his kitchen. “S-sure.” A bead of sweat rolled dangerously close to his eye and he swiped at it. “Shower,” he explained as he disappeared again.

By the time he was washed and dressed, two sunny side up eggs were cooling rapidly on a plate for him. Levi ate his eggs with salsa from a half-empty jar he must’ve unearthed in Oscar’s fridge, though the way he chewed and swallowed broadcasted his regret of this decision.

“I looked up St. Clare’s,” Oscar said as he stabbed one of his yolks and watched it ooze. “And I think I know where it is, but you might have to give me directions.”

Levi made a noise of assent. “When are we leaving?”

Oscar glanced up at the kitchen clock, calculating the detour into his usual commute. “Ten minutes?”

They were out the door in five. Levi sat rigidly in his seat, backpack in his lap and gym bag down by his feet. Oscar usually didn’t listen to the radio— preferring silence to concentrate better since maintaining focus was still an issue sometimes— but Levi’s presence made the silence deafening so he switched it on. Neither of them spoke other than Levi occasionally telling him what lane to get in, when to exit, where to turn.

Eventually, Levi stopped them about a block away from the school, explaining that if they went any farther, Oscar would be trapped in the drop-off lanes. Other people had the same idea and Oscar glanced at the students walking past, all starched white dress shirts, dark slacks, and plaid skirts. “Are you going to get in trouble for being out of uniform?”

Levi eyed him oddly, then patted his gym bag. “Got it. I have PE first period, I always change into uniform after.”

“All right.” Before Oscar could begin considering all the reasons why he shouldn’t do this, he grabbed a gas station receipt crumbled in his cup holder, scribbled his phone number on the back, and pressed it into Levi’s hand. “If you need anything— I’m serious, anything— call me, okay?”

He wanted— or rather, Eren wanted— to say more, but he and Levi were little more than strangers in this world. Even if he had been speaking to the **Captain** , he doubted he would’ve said little more. They were a **squad** ; there was no need for verbal reassurances of willingness to come to one another’s aid.

Levi stared at the receipt and then at him, before nodding and folding it in half neatly. He slipped it into the front pocket of his backpack. With one final wary glance at Oscar, he opened the car door and climbed out onto the sidewalk. He watched with a hard lump in his throat, wondering if this was the last he’d see of him, if he’d ever be so lucky to discover anyone else that actually mattered. But before Levi slammed the door shut, he ducked his head back into the car.

“Can… would it be okay—you don’t—” he stopped, fingers clenching around his backpack strap until the knuckles strained outward. “Could I stay with you, just for a couple of days? Just until I figure something else out.”

 _“You can stay with me as long as you want to,”_ rushed to the tip of his tongue, but Oscar bit down on it. There was probably a way to say that without sounding overly—creepily— helpful, but he felt too desperate to pull it off. So instead he settled for very carefully, very neutrally, asking, “What time do you need to get picked up?”

* * *

 

During his lunch break that day, he texted Alexis twice. First, _I found Levi. He doesn’t remember anything, of course, but he’s staying in my apartment for now._ Mina had never met **Captain** Levi, but she’d recognize the name and he’d spoken to Alexis about him before. And then, hesitantly, he sent, _Do you think that’s safe?_

His phone buzzed with a response a few moments later. _What??? That’s amazing!!!_ And just seconds after, _Has he triggered you?_

_Nothing yet. Everything feels kinda unreal though._

_Not surprising. The change might be a little difficult to handle, so be careful. Call me later and tell me more?_

Oscar texted back an _OK_ before setting his phone aside to finally eat in the last remaining minutes of lunch, but found he still didn’t have an appetite. It wasn’t having flashbacks he worried about. It was losing himself to the specter of Eren Yaeger.

* * *

A couple of days turned into several. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday passed without any major incidences, though Levi sitting at his kitchen table doing homework was extraordinary in and of itself. Levi never said much and Oscar refused to pry, but even still he managed to pick up tiny bits of information about this Levi to compare with the Levi in Eren's memories. He was nearly done with his junior year, only a precalculus final and a dreaded French oral presentation standing between him and summer vacation. He hated the taste of coffee, though he thought it smelled good. He cleaned up after himself, but Oscar couldn’t tell how much of that was actual preference and how much was just being a good guest. He was always, always, watching, tracking Oscar’s movements with sharp eyes. In many ways, this Levi was a different person; in other ways, he was so similar it ached.

Probably the most surprising piece of information came on Sunday morning. Oscar went for his usual morning jog only to cut it short when the sky began to dim with gray clouds. It was probably just going to be a shower, but he hadn’t checked the weather report yet that day and he didn’t want to risk being caught outside in a thunderstorm. Lightning didn’t always trigger him, but when it did, his familiar, _memorized_ , apartment was a far safer place to be.

It started to drizzle before he bounded up the stairs to his apartment, so he stood on the doormat, toed off his damp sneakers, and placed them on the shoe rack before moving out the doorway. He didn’t know whether Levi would still be asleep or not—he was typically awake when Oscar came back from jogging, but he’d only been gone twenty minutes at the most— so he crept into the living room.

Levi was sitting upright on the couch, head bent over something. Oscar nearly greeted him, but then he spotted the rosary wrapped in one hand and heard the low stream of Spanish pouring softly from his lips, and thought better of it. He could tell from the tight edge to Levi’s shoulders that he knew Oscar was there, but he still edged silently around the couch towards the kitchen, not wanting to interrupt any further.

He poured himself a glass of water and gulped it down, wondering why the scene had surprised him so much. The **Captain** had been a man of great faith, though he hadn’t been religious. The only surviving religion was that of the Walls and he’d never believed in the Walls’ supposed eternal protection and divine grace. Instead, **Captain** Levi put his faith in his own decisions and abilities, and in **Commander** Smith’s vision and plans. And—

A scene he’d remembered a few years ago glowed gently in his mind, like someone blowing on a dying ember.

_The air is hot and uncomfortable up on the roof with the sun beating down full force, but Eren just digs the heel of his palms into both eyes and rubs the tears off onto his knees. He hears someone approaching behind him and is about to snap at Mikasa that he’ll come down when he’s good and ready, damn it, when the person says, “Don’t put your hands back on your eyes, that’s disgusting.”_

_He lowers his hands—he hadn’t even realized he’d brought them to his face again— and looks up at **Captain** Levi. “I think an eye infection is the least of my worries at this point,” he shoots back._

**_Captain_ ** _Levi grunts in acknowledgement and sits down beside him, good leg tucked underneath his body and bad one dangling over the edge of the roof. He offers Eren a handkerchief from his pocket and he accepts it despite his earlier words._

_“I’m not crying because—” Eren stops though because he doesn’t need to justify himself to the **Captain**. “I’m going to finish this,” he says instead. “All the way to the very end. I’ll finish this.”_

_He knows that he must look pathetic, red-eyed and snot-nosed, but **Captain** Levi’s reply bears no reservations. “I know.”_

And he put his faith in Eren Yaeger.

It was just another way that this Levi and that one were different, though as he thought about it more, he supposed it wasn’t that big of a stretch. Despite all of the **Captain** 's cynicism and wariness, he couldn't think of anyone with a greater capacity for faith. Maybe if there had been some better religious options, he would've been religious. As it was, he had to settle for mere men.

Oscar finished a second glass of water and was washing off an apple when Levi appeared in the kitchen, rosary gone. It’d clearly been a private moment, but it felt silly to act like he hadn’t seen, so Oscar asked, “You’re Catholic?”

“I go to a Catholic school.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to be Catholic to go to one.”

Levi raised an eyebrow like Oscar was being exceptionally thick. “I’m Mexican.”

“Are you encouraging me to stereotype you?” He grinned as he bit into the apple. Mentally, he stored this new bit of information away. Mexican. His original Latino guess hadn’t been far off. He seemed fluent in Spanish from what little he’d overheard, but his English was unaccented, so Oscar figured he was either born in the United States or moved when he was very young. The urge to ask questions about Levi’s family was strong, but he resisted. Levi had yet to utter a single word on the topic, so as far as Oscar was concerned, it was a no-fly zone. “Want some breakfast?”

* * *

 

The school year ended. Levi still remained. Chloe and his mother joined the ranks of people who knew about Levi sleeping on his couch, though they received a very different report than what Alexis got. To Chloe, he just mentioned offhandedly that someone was staying with him for a while. He told his mother that he’d gotten a roommate, which thrilled her endlessly since she’d always worried about him living alone. She wanted to know all about Levi, so he shared what he could, carefully editing out the fact that his roommate was still in high school and, to his best knowledge, a runaway.

Eventually, the roommate version of the story became the truth though.

“I got a job,” Levi announced.

Oscar was deep in the midst of his get-ready-for-work routine, but he froze in the middle of sliding on his shoes. “Yeah? That’s lucky, there’s not a lot of places hiring right now.”

“My coach’s brother owns a restaurant; he put in a good word for me.”

He realized he was still bent over and quickly finished putting on his shoes. “Your coach?”

“I did track and field at school.” Levi scowled suddenly. “No fucking jokes about Mexicans and running. I swear, if I have to hear one more shitty joke—”

“Didn’t even cross my mind,” he assured him. Since Levi seemed to be in a more talkative mood than usual, he prodded a bit more. “What events?”

Typically, when Oscar asked a direct question about Levi, he received a pinched expression for his trouble. But this morning, Levi seemed distracted with something and his mouth ran more freely. “Mostly the 100 meter and pole vaulting.”

“Hm.” He wanted to ask a little more, but decided not to press his luck. “So you got a job. That’s good.”

“It’s just part-time, for now, but I can probably get more hours soon. And it’s fairly close by.” Levi crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed his hands up and down the both of them, as if he was chilly. Not possible. It was June, Levi was wearing a jacket, and his apartment’s AC unit wasn’t that _good._ Oscar realized, belatedly, that Levi was nervous—an emotion he still wasn’t used to seeing on him. “So I was wondering if I could stay here. Permanently. I’ll pay my half of the rent.”

The specter of Eren rankled at the thought of taking Levi’s money— **Captain** Levi didn’t owe him anything, it was Eren who had too many debts to pay—but Oscar knew that both that Levi and this one needed their independence. Even still: “I can’t charge you half the rent when you don’t even have a real bed here. A quarter.”

Levi’s mouth flattened into a razor-thin line. “Half.”

“A quart— ah, damn,” he muttered, catching sight of the clock on the wall. “I’ve gotta get out of here. We can argue about this later.”

It took them a while, each of them trying to out-stubborn the other, but they wound up settling on forty percent. Oscar figured he should count it as a victory—this Levi could be even more pigheaded than the **Captain**.

* * *

 

Summer moved slowly. Without ever really discussing it, they settled into an easy routine—work, chores, grocery shopping, cooking, watching Disney movies or rom-coms late at night. Oscar’s old routine fell apart piece by piece as the new one replaced it, but it wasn’t so bad. He hadn’t realized how much he missed living with someone.

If anyone from Levi’s family tried to contact him, Oscar didn’t hear about it. No one called, no one texted. On the contrary, Levi’s cell phone service was suddenly canceled, so Oscar took him to the store to get one of those pay-as-you-go phones. Outwardly, Levi didn’t seem upset about it, so Oscar didn’t comment. But he thought again of those bruises he’d seen on Levi’s neck—healed long ago—and the anger smoldered quietly in his chest.

Levi, after apparently finally deciding that Oscar wasn’t playing some sort of long con that culminated in Levi’s dead body at the bottom of the river, began displaying some curiosity in him besides constantly tracking his every movement. It began with a casual, “Where do you work anyway?” and proceeded steadily from there. Oscar was more than happy to satisfy Levi’s curiosity—not only did it give him openings to carefully ask questions of his own, but also it felt like they were actually forming a relationship, something more permanent than a stranger crashing on his couch for a few nights and deeper than just a random roommate.

“Your mom is pretty,” Levi commented one day. Oscar glanced up from his laptop and saw Levi was examining one of older family portraits framed on his mantle top, the only one ever taken when they were four and not just two.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “She’s nearly all gray now though. My fault, probably.”

“You don’t look much like her.”

It was true. The main influence his mother’s genes held over him was his dark skin and the cleft in his chin. “She says I look more like my father.”

“Not him?” Levi checked, pointing at the photo. "You said your father was Turkish, right?”

It pleased Oscar immensely that Levi remembered this detail from weeks ago, though he worked not to let any of the pleasure display on his face. “Yeah. That’s Dan. Step-father.”

“Step-sister?” Levi guessed, laying his finger over the fourth and final person in the picture.

“Lisa. Half-sister,” he corrected. And then, because he’d found it was always best to just get this next part out of the way, he said, “She died when she was six. Cancer. Mom and Dan separated not long after.” He supposed that it’d just been too sad for them to remain together, bearing the constant reminder of what they’d had with each other and lost. But when he was younger, he couldn’t help but resent Dan for leaving his mom when she was at her lowest. Oscar had been fourteen at the time and completely unprepared for the depths his mother sunk to, but he’d done what he could to keep them both from drowning in misery.

Usually people expressed condolences or made vague, sympathetic sounds upon hearing about Lisa, but Levi just studied the studio portrait, silent.

“Do you have any siblings?” Oscar had been avoiding asking about anything related to Levi’s home life, but he’d opened the floor to discussion with his own inquires. Besides, siblings were probably a safer topic than his parents.

Levi glanced back at him, startled, as though he’d forgotten Oscar was watching from the recliner. “No,” he said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his ever-present jacket. “It was just me.”

Was. Oscar wondered about that single, small word for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

 

As glad as Oscar was that he and Levi were slowly getting to know each other—Levi no longer shying away from innocuous questions like a stray cat from an outstretched hand—there were some things he’d rather Levi didn’t find out about him for a while longer. Primarily, his illness.

The last couple of weeks he’d been fairly lucky. No major depressive or anxious episodes. No panic attacks or flashbacks. Oscar always took his medication alone at night and if Levi noticed how twitchy Oscar got when something disrupted his schedule or how badly he startled at strange noises, he didn’t say anything.

But then, the storm.

Rain? Not a problem. Thunder? So long as he braced for the boom, it wasn’t too terrible. But lightning—the effect lightning had on him was unpredictable and for Oscar unpredictable meant dangerous.

This storm was bad. He’d followed the weather reports on his phone all day, listening with trepidation as his coworkers kidded around about being sure to get home before the arks started to float by. He didn’t join in with the jokes; if the storm hit before he left the lab, Oscar couldn’t even risk driving.

Fortunately, the storm held long enough for him to get home. By the time he got inside though, his nerves were shot. Rain rang against the glass windows, turning into a roar when it shifted to pound the walls. His pulse pounded with it, thumping in his ears. It startled him to see Levi in the apartment— how he forgot this, he didn't know— and the sight of him derailed his frantic plans of sitting in his bedroom's walk-in closet plugged into his iPod until the storm passed.

"Are you okay?" Levi asked.

"Um." He licked his lips, mouth dry from his labored breathing. "Yeah." The clouds were thickening outside and cottoning inside his head. A wave of dread washed over him and it registered that if he didn't have a flashback, he was well on his way to a panic attack. "I just need... I need to—"

He glanced at the window just as the lightning struck.

_A bolt—big, bright, blazing— less than fifty meters away. Reiner is coming._

_Eren assessed the situation in a single heartbeat. He and the **Captain** are both lacking **gear**. Connie and Jean are supposed to be running supplies to them, but there’s no time to wait. Reiner wouldn’t have **Shifted** if he didn’t know their position. They have seconds, a couple minutes at most, before the building starts crashing down over their heads. He’ll have to **Shift**. He can handle Reiner, immobilize him temporarily at least, but the fight will be risky without back up. The rest of the **squad** will surely find them quickly once he’s in **Titan** form, but how quickly? No. **Shift** , grab **Captain** Levi, run. He can outrun Reiner any day, though the **Captain** will not appreciate being toted around like a doll. Too bad. They need to get out, now._

_He bites down on his hand, the familiar, sour taste of blood and flesh flooding his mouth. And nothing more._

_No. No, no, no, not fucking now. Reiner will be upon them at any moment and he fills his mind with his purpose— long, powerful legs for sprinting, strong torso and arms to brawl if necessary, grab Levi, run, don’t fight unless you have to, keep Levi safe, don’t die—and bites down again. More blood, more flesh, more nothing._

_The **Captain** shouts at him, probably asking what’s wrong, but Eren doesn’t listen because he doesn’t fucking know and he needs to focus. He clenches his fist, pain lancing up his arm as the open wounds strain, and raises it up to sink his teeth into it for the last time. But **Captain** Levi seizes his arm and drags it away from his mouth._

_“ **One more time** ,” Eren tells him. “ **I can do it,** **Captain**.” He yanks at his arm, but Levi won’t let him have it back. He tries to twist his free arm around to his mouth, but Levi blocks him. ” **Captain**!” There’s anger on Levi’s face, but it’s nearly completely nullified by the fear and that brings Eren up short because he has never seen him afraid. “ **What do you want me to do? Captain, what should I do? Tell me!** ”_

_Levi is talking, but it washes over Eren unheard. There’s a boom, Reiner approaching. Any moment now. If Levi won’t let him **Shift** , they have to move, hide, do something, and he jerks, trying to escape the tight grasp **Captain** Levi has on his arms. “ **He’s coming, Captain. We have to—let me go!”** All his training, all his level-headedness is deserting him now. Levi is scared and if Levi is scared they are done for._

_His eyes wrench over the room, searching desperately for any structure that could provide even a moment of cover, just long enough for Eren to work out his **Shifting**. But it’s all useless, nothing here that could withstand against Reiner’s **Titan** , nothing—_

A strange, plush chair sat in the middle of the room. It was blue, royal blue, and his brain snagged on this detail. Blue chair. Plush, blue chair. Automatically, he began cataloguing its other features. Fat cushions, a wooden handle at the side. There was a small stain on one of the arms from when he spilled some coffee that he’d never managed to get out of the fabric. Very comfortable chair. Recliner. Sometimes he falls asleep in it watching TV, but only when he’s extremely exhausted.

Blue recliner. His recliner. He was in his apartment.

Carefully, he moved his focus from the recliner to the floor and then to the nearby lamp, listing off all the details he’d memorized from his daily grounding exercises. He was in his apartment. He’d had a flashback. He was okay.

He nearly believed it.

“Oscar? Is it over? Can you stay still and just… do nothing while I go find some bandages or something?”

He turned towards the voice and blinked at the **Captain**. “ **Captain? Why are you… you shouldn’t be in my apartment.”** Should he?

Levi shook his head. When had his hair gotten so short? “Okay. Yeah. I still can’t understand you.” He stood up, hands held out towards him like he was a wild animal. “I don’t know— I need to get the first aid kit. If you have one. Don’t move. Don’t do anything. I’ll be right back. Okay?”

“ **Yes** , **sir,** ” he answered, dazed but coherent enough to register the order. He felt sore, lightheaded, and he was in his apartment, in a world with no **Titans** , and Levi was here. But Levi was going somewhere. He’d be right back, he’d said.

Wait. Why was he lying on the floor?

“Okay?” Levi asked again. He nodded, too dizzy and tired to say anything more, and the **Captain** left this time. He closed his eyes and just worked on breathing for a bit. Deep. Slow. Steady rhythm.

Levi came back like he said he would, with a red plastic box. He opened it and started removing things before telling him to hold out his hand. He did so obediently and was rather startled by how bloodied and raw it was when Levi took it. He’d **Shifted**? Or tried to **Shift**? But he was in his apartment. Somehow… those two things didn’t work together.

As Levi tended to his hand, it slowly dawned on him. He’d had a flashback. This was Levi, but not **Captain** Levi. Reiner wasn’t coming, was never coming, it was that fucking storm. Lightning.

“Sorry,” he muttered. His throat rasped. “You were.. you were scared.”

Levi didn’t look up from where he was wrapping his hand with tape and gauze. “Back to English, huh?”

“Sorry.” His eyes drifted over the room, wondering how much time he’d lost. He hadn’t had a flashback that vivid in years. Levi finished with his hand and he flexed his fingers. “Usually, I don’t bite.” This felt like an important detail to convey. Like, yes, he had issues, but not those issues.

“And the rest is?” He stared at Levi blankly until he clarified. “The rest is usual? The… whatever that was?”

“Flashback.” He drew back his hand and cradled it against his chest. Levi’s bandaging job was extremely neat and he studied the crisp lines of it for a few moments before recalling that Levi had asked him something else, but not what it was. “You said… sorry, it’s hard to… concentrate. After.”

Levi closed the first aid box with a loud snap. “Would you stop apologizing?”

_The **Captain** whirls on him, eyes flashing hot and dark. " **If you want me to do this, then stop fucking apologizing!** " And it's not the fury that startles him, though he's never seen Levi so mad— it's the steely glint of ill-concealed sorrow. For a moment, he reconsiders, nearly withdraws his request. _

_But in the end, he squares his shoulders and says, " **Please.** "_

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. Instead, he forced his feet underneath his body and rose slowly to a standing position. Levi shot up with him, grabbing a hold of his arm to steady him. “Bed,” he said, and Levi helped him shuffle into his room, one hand against his back until he collapsed onto the bed and burrowed under the covers. In a series of mumbles, he directed Levi to retrieve his weighted blanket from its drawer.

Levi spread it over him, then asked, “Do you need anything else?”

“Close the blinds?” he suggested. Levi started covering the window. Outside, the rain continued, though not as ferociously. He checked the alarm clock on his nightstand and discovered that it’d only been an hour since he’d gotten home. Usually, after an episode that bad, it took him much longer to get his thoughts this organized again.

He realized that he’d yet to offer any kind of explanation and told Levi, “I have PTSD.” Levi finished with the blinds and sat on the corner of the mattress, not saying anything. “That’s…” he trailed off, not sure how to begin explaining. His hand throbbed painfully and he stuffed it under his pillow.

“I know what PTSD is,” Levi said. “A lot of veterans get it.”

He remembered Levi asking him that first night whether he used to be in the army and giving him a vague reply. It seemed Levi believed it. “Yes. I’m much better than how I used to be. But sometimes lightning and… other stuff trigger flashbacks.” With the window covered, the room was too dark to see Levi properly, but he could feel him studying him. “I’m not dangerous,” he blurted, one of the many stereotypes of PTSD sufferers floating into his mind. “I’ve never hurt anyone.” Well, he hadn’t yet. He wasn't sure what might happen if he mistook someone for an enemy during an episode. And if his mother was here, she’d certainly point out that he’d hurt himself plenty of times, but that was beside the point.

“Do you need any medicine?” Levi asked, ignoring the outburst. “For your hand or the PTSD?”

He shook his head, curling and drawing his knees up to his chest beneath the heavy blanket. He’d have to take his regular doses before he went to bed, but that wouldn’t be for another few hours. For now, he just needed to process what happened, settle his nerves, and secure himself in place again. His mind was lighting up with hot, flashing sparks that only seemed to make the surrounding darkness deeper. “Later. Just… give me a bit.”

He wanted Levi to stay with him, but it felt too embarrassing to actually ask. Fortunately, he didn’t need to ask because Levi didn’t budge from the corner of the bed he’d claimed. Relieved, he closed his eyes and focused again on his breathing. After a few minutes of that, he opened his eyes again and began taking an inventory of his surroundings. He’d begun practicing mindfulness everyday on Alexis’ suggestion. They’d tested out a bunch of grounding techniques back in the early days of his illness—strong smells and tastes to focus on, gripping ice between his hands until his brain could no longer ignore the sensation—but what always connected him to the present best was what he could see. The digital alarm clock on his nightstand with its plastic casing and red, glowing numbers. His green and yellow running shoes waiting beside his dresser. The ceiling fan, currently unmoving, with its wooden blades that he dusted every Saturday. Irrefutable evidence of whose world he was in— Oscar’s.    

He was Oscar.

Oscar sat up slowly, letting the blankets fall off his torso. Levi was still there, watching.

“Better?”

“Mostly.” He put his feet on the floor, carefully shifting his weight to them until he was certain his legs wouldn’t collapse beneath him. “I should try to eat something.”

Levi made him sit at the kitchen table and wait as he heated some leftovers from the fridge, though Oscar felt well enough to do it himself. But Levi seemed determined to take care of him, so he indulged him. Chloe and his mother had been the same way. When he complained to Alexis about the hovering, she told him to try to imagine seeing someone else caught in the midst of a flashback. “There is only so much you can do for someone when they are like that. They feel powerless. So they want to do whatever they can to help afterwards.”

Good intentions or not, it was still a little irritating. But Oscar knew the ire he felt was mostly because of how emotionally and physically exhausted the flashbacks left him, so he allowed the hovering to continue. At least neither Chloe nor his mother had ever gone so far as to baby him.

Levi didn’t seem in danger of any babying either. After the microwave chimed, he set the plated food down in front of Oscar and then set about preparing his own plate. Oscar ate methodically, concentrating on the tastes and textures of the food in his mouth. Eventually, Levi joined him at the table, fingers making a cross down his forehead and across his shoulders as he murmured rapid, fluid Spanish that sounded more like a song than a prayer. Then he picked up his fork and, with no fanfare or beating around the bush, said, “Earlier, you kept calling me something.” Levi made a garbled effort at the word and a grin cracked onto Oscar's face.

“ **Captain** ,” he corrected, each syllable deliberate.

“Yeah, that. Is it Turkish or something?”

“Or something.” Oscar spoke English and a few phrases of Louisiana Creole he’d picked up from his grandmother before she’d died. The two years of French he’d taken in high school hadn’t made much of an impression since he’d always been more interested in the sciences. He’d never made any effort to study Turkish, despite his mom’s gentle suggestions.

For Eren, there had only been the sole, unnamed mother tongue.

* * *

 

Oscar had never put much stock in lofty concepts like destiny or karma. He always believed that life just sort of happened and that there was no real order to anything. However, he began to think that perhaps there was a sort of balance to the world. Because only a few days after Levi found out something about Oscar he’d rather Levi didn’t yet know, the reverse occurred.

It started with a cough.

Oscar didn’t think much of it at first, figuring that Levi probably picked it up from work. He remembered from his own serving days how easily bugs and colds passed through restaurants—hordes of contagious customers touching the chairs, tables, and menus, and plenty of employees too broke to afford a sick day. The kitchen was always stocked with throat lozenges, Dayquil, and gallons of hand sanitizer for the cooks, servers, hosts, and busboys to partake in and everyone became a master at concealing illness.

But what started as just a regular cough developed into a terrible, wet wheezing, the sort of noise that made one wonder how the lungs hadn't already drowned long ago. And while Oscar succeeded in forcing soup, over-the-counter medicines, and extra rest onto Levi, he refused to go to a doctor and get it checked out.

“You have fluid in your lungs,” Oscar told him. “You could have pneumonia or bronchitis or… or something.” He’d been furtively checking symptoms on WebMd, which probably wasn’t the greatest idea, but, God, Levi sounded awful.

“I’m not going,” Levi said. His face had that set, stony expression that he was so familiar with, but the effect was somewhat ruined by his weak, strained voice.

“If it’s bacterial pneumonia, it won’t go away on its own,” Oscar warned him. “You’ll just keep getting worse.” Levi didn’t respond, so he added, “Pneumonia can kill people, you know.”

“I better not have fucking pneumonia then, huh?” Levi snarled—or tried to, anyway. The coughing fit he broke into midway through the sentence made it sound closer to whimpering.

Oscar let him be after that, not wanting to get Levi too worked up when he was so miserable. For a while, at least. It was impossible to ignore Levi’s shallow breathing and pathetic coughing, especially when it reminded him so much of the plague that decimated **Shiganshina** when Eren was a small child.

So he refreshed his efforts to convince Levi that he _really_ needed to go to a clinic or the ER, his worry carrying his nagging for hours until finally Levi muttered something that made him shut up.

“I already know why I’m sick.”

Oscar stopped in the middle of his latest lecture, waiting for Levi to elaborate. But Levi didn’t say anything, just watched Oscar tiredly from where he was propped upright against the couch’s arm. Finally, Oscar asked, “Why are you sick?”

Levi’s fingers tightened their grip on the quilt he was wrapped in. He looked away from Oscar, fixing his gaze on some point over his shoulder instead. He appeared about as exhausted as the **Captain** had towards the end, worn down but still clinging to that last scrap of fight left inside him. “I’m… I’ve been binding.” He unfolded the quilt from around his body—hands shaking ever so slightly, though Oscar couldn’t tell if it was from chills or nerves— hiking up his jacket and then his shirt to reveal yet another layer underneath.

Oscar blinked, trying to puzzle out what exactly he was seeing, before it finally clicked. He swallowed, mind reeling as he wondered what to say, what to do, feeling woefully inadequate to handle this. Chloe, he should call Chloe, she’d know. And then he realized that it was midnight and Chloe was probably asleep and, besides, Levi was waiting for him to speak, his face becoming more and more drawn as the moment stretched longer.

He decided to first deal with the immediate issue at hand. “How long? I mean, when was the last time you took it off?”

Levi dropped his shirt and jacket back down, both hands fisted around the quilt again. “To shower.”

Unless Levi had managed to sneak in the quickest, most ninja-like shower ever, that was yesterday. “You didn’t sleep in it, did you?”

Levi didn’t answer; his odd, almost guilty expression was answer enough.

Oscar chewed his bottom lip, trying to work out the best way to phrase the next part without putting his foot in his mouth. “Will you take it off? I mean—I’m not saying don’t bind, that’s fine, just— fuck, you need to _breathe_. So— please?”

Levi didn’t say anything, but he grimaced, rose from the couch, and slunk off to the bathroom. The second the door closed, Oscar ran his hands over his face and firmly told himself to get a grip. This Levi wasn’t the full grown, self-assured soldier Eren remembered. He was just seventeen and recently homeless as far as he knew—shit, did his parents learn he was trans and kick him out? Shit, shit— and probably frightened enough without Oscar freaking out. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Levi off.

He emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, hunched over slightly with his arms crossed over his chest, the entire line of his body tense as he collapsed onto the couch again, as far away from Oscar as possible. It made him ache to see Levi so visibly uncomfortable, but he forced himself to wipe any of the uneasiness from his face. “Hey,” he said softly. Levi glanced at him warily. “It’s all right. Can you breathe deep and cough for me?”

Levi’s narrowed eyes were enough to tell him that Levi didn’t think things were all right in the least, but he obediently sucked in a long, slow gulp of air and coughed loudly. The sound rattled wet and thick; but still nothing seemed to dislodge. Oscar winced. Whatever Levi had caught, it was nasty.

“Just because you’ve got a good idea of why you’re sick doesn’t mean you don’t need to see a doctor,” he told him gently. “You’re probably going to need an antibiotic to clear that up.” He felt like he’d said that at least a hundred times already, but perhaps Levi would actually consider it now.

“I don’t think I have enough money for a doctor,” Levi muttered.

“I’ll pay for it.”

The fact that Levi didn't immediately argue about that told Oscar just how exhausted he was. Levi shifted in his seat, drawing his legs up onto the couch and tucking them against his chest. “I… don’t like going to the doctor.”

Oscar could empathize with that, though he knew his reasons were probably very different from Levi’s. “Would it help if I talked to the doctor before hand? Oh, and we could look online, see if there’s any trans friendly clinics in town?” Surely someone had some sort of website for that. The internet had everything—even a past life Facebook.

Levi stared at him, chin perched on his knees. After a moment, his eyes slid away to fix on the carpet. “I have to get a prescription,” he said. It sounded more like he was talking to himself than directing the comment towards Oscar, but he answered in the affirmative anyway. Levi sighed and unfolded himself, standing with his fists clenched at his sides. “Let’s just go.”

“Are you sure?” he checked.

“Let’s go,” Levi snapped.

Oscar acquiesced easily, pausing only to fetch his wallet and keys, and then they were on their way to the nearest 24-hour clinic. Levi sat low in the passenger seat, forehead pressed against the window. The silence made Oscar’s skin prickle and he cast his mind out for something to say. Levi didn’t seem in the mood for small talk or platitudes, so he settled on asking after something that was bothering him.

“You know that you shouldn’t bind for longer than twelve hours, right?” he started, trying his best not to come across as condescending. “And it’s dangerous to sleep in it too.”

“I know how to bind safely,” Levi cut in. “And I know that the binder I have is shit too." He coughed into his elbow. "Cheap. Not made right.”

Oscar hadn’t known bad binders even existed, but he resolved to find out what exactly constituted a good binder and convince Levi to let him buy one for him. Levi wouldn’t like that—Oscar already anticipated another argument— but he could always pay him back later. “Okay. That’s good. So why did you…?” he trailed off, lifting one hand off the steering wheel to gesture vaguely in Levi’s general direction.

They traveled several blocks before Levi spoke. When he did, it wasn’t to answer his question. “Did you know? That night we met.”

Oscar shook his head. The question felt heavy, loaded in a way he couldn't quite parse out, and he wished this discussion wasn't happening while he was driving and couldn't give Levi one hundred percent of his attention. “I had no idea.”

Levi sat up a little in his seat. “You called me a guy," he said. Oscar almost couldn't hear him over the car's noise. "Most people… once they get a good look at me, they start calling me a girl. I never pass for long." He finally turned away from the window and Oscar's eyes flicked over for a moment to meet his gaze, at least until he had to focus on the road again. Levi continued, a little louder. "But I passed for you. And I kept passing. I didn’t want to ruin that. I didn’t want you to… So that’s why.”

Oscar took a moment to just digest that. “All right," he said. "That makes sense. And thank you, by the way, for trusting me with this. But...” He glanced over again, then back to the road. He wasn't sure how to say what he wanted to say without it potentially being offensive, but he needed to make sure Levi understood this. “If you want to bind around me because it helps, that’s fine. I _want_ you to, if it helps. But be safe about it, okay? If it's time to take it off, take it off. You don’t have to... pass for me." He flexed his fingers out of their nervous grip on the steering wheel. "I know you’re a guy. ...I’d have a very hard time looking at you and seeing anything other than a guy.”

To Oscar's relief, Levi's tense, defensive posture relaxed. It was hard to tell from just his periphery vision, but he seemed a little pleased. “Why do you know so much about this stuff anyway?”

“Oh. I wouldn't really say I know that much." He debated a moment on how to explain, wondering how to do it without outing Chloe. He didn't think she would mind in this instance, but he also knew it wasn't his call. He decided finally that so long as he didn't go into specifics on her identity, it would be all right. "My last two years of college, I roomed with a trans woman. The very first day, she gave me this speech about how her last few roommates had all been assholes and if I was going to be an asshole, then I might as well tell her now so she could get her room change paperwork started. I told her I didn’t have any intention of being an asshole, but then I realized that I didn’t actually _know_ anything about transgender stuff and I didn’t want to accidentally be an asshole, so..." He shrugged. "I read up on it.”

Levi didn't speak for the rest of the ride, quiet except for his warbling wheezing and occasional, rattling coughs. The silence wasn't nearly so uncomfortable this time, so Oscar left it unbroken. It wasn't until they were sitting in the clinic's waiting room, Oscar distracting himself with an outdated magazine while Levi filled out his paperwork, that Levi asked, "Do you still talk to her?"

"My roommate? Yeah. All the time." After all these years, after everything— the mental health shit storm, the physical distance, the diverging life paths— she was still his best friend.

"Do you think I could talk to her?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this without doing my usual last-minute proofreading, so let me know if you spot anything wacky. I'll take a proper look at it tomorrow.
> 
> For a fun time, pop özgür into Google Translate. For an even more fun time, make my day and leave a comment.
> 
> Coming up next in part 2 of Part Two: the 21st century is kind of awesome, what with its internet and its airplanes and its giant shopping malls... AKA, Oscar runs into a stranger, a foe, and a comrade.


	3. PART TWO (2/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the technology brings people together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... you know how I said Part Two was going to be two chapters? I lied. Part Two is going to be three chapters. So. Enjoy this giant-ass chapter. We'll escape Part Two someday...

**PART TWO (2/3)**

Oscar was terrible at asking for help. It wasn’t that he thought he was above needing help. Oh, he needed help. Sometimes he really needed help, whether that help came from the medication he’d been taking daily for years or calling Alexis in the middle of the night because he’d had a bad nightmare and needed to be convinced it wasn’t real—or, at least, not present. He knew he needed help—everyone needed help sometimes—he just never knew how best to _ask_ for it.

But this wasn’t for him, it was for Levi, so he’d figure out how to ask.

They’d filled the prescription right after leaving the clinic and Levi (exhausted from several nights of broken sleep thanks to coughing and a very eventful day) slept the entire morning away. Oscar puttered around the apartment, finding quiet chores to fill the time. By the time Levi finally woke up, Oscar had gotten his thoughts in order—mostly— and was ready to call.  

Chloe answered after five long rings, her voice gravelly with sleep. After teasing her thoroughly for still being dead to the world at one in the afternoon (to which her only defense was “It’s the _weekend_ , Oscar,”), he moved forward with the actual purpose of his call. “So, you remember how I said there was a guy staying with me for a while?”

Chloe, of course, immediately detected an odd note in his tone. "...Yeah?"

“Okay, well, first of all, he may be a little younger than I previously implied—”

“—Oscar, are you shacking up with a teenager?”

"W-what?” Oscar sputtered. “No! I mean, he's a teenager and he's living here, but no 'shacking' involved. He sleeps on the couch. Pays rent too.”

Chloe sighed. He could almost hear her eyes roll over the phone. “All right, relax, I believe you. So, what about this guy?”

“He told me he's trans. And he’s— I don't know, he's young and a little… lost, maybe.” He was glad he’d gone into his bedroom where Levi couldn’t overhear for this; he wouldn’t like being described as “lost,” even if it was kind of true. “I think it might be good for him to talk to you. Someone older and more experienced?” And then, so Chloe didn’t think he was trying to foist Levi off on her, he rushed to add, “I mean, I don't mind talking to him, but I’m not really the best choice, you know? Actually, he’s the one that asked for you—"

"—Right now?" Chloe broke in.

His shoulders slumped as the nervous tension left him. “If it's a good time.”

“Go ahead and put him on.”

“Thank you, Chloe, you're the best, seriously. Hold on a sec.” He opened the door and brought his cellphone to where Levi was bundled up on the couch, sipping a mug of soup slowly. “Here.”

Levi took the phone and glanced at the screen before setting the soup aside and answering with, “Hello?” Oscar made himself scarce, retreating back into the bedroom to leave them to it.

Needing a distraction, he played some music loudly from his laptop’s tinny speakers and set upon re-organizing his drawers. He wanted to… _do_ something— run at full-speed until he was bent over and heaving, go to a club and dance in a hot, pressing crowd and get wasted, find some other asshole raring to go and get in a fight until they were both bloody and raw. It’d been years since he’d last felt this sort of senseless, almost manic combination of high-energy and misdirected anger. As he crammed stuff he no longer needed into a trash bag, he tried to sort out just who or what he was pissed at. He reached into the bottom drawer and his eyes fell upon the bite marks still healing on his hand and he realized—this wasn’t his anger. It was echoing in his mind’s darkness, radiating out from what was left of Eren Yaeger.

But why?

Levi knocked on the door and Oscar startled, bolting upright and seizing the nearest heavy object as a weapon before realizing what happened. He sighed and set the lamp back down on the bedside table, rubbing his temple with both hands. He paused the music and answered the door.

“She says she wants to speak to you,” Levi said, depositing the phone into his hand before returning to his nest of quilts and couch pillows.

Oscar shut the door again firmly and pressed the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”

"So you made him go see a doctor?” Chloe asked, voice sardonic. “Extolled the virtues of professional health care and not just licking your wounds in a cave and hoping you magically get better?"

"Yes, yes, I’m a raging hypocrite. How'd it go?"

“Good… I think,” she said. “It’s a bit like pulling teeth with him, isn’t it? But I gave him my number and told him he can talk to me whenever he wants. And I gave him Rob’s number too.”

“Rob?” What did her fiancé have to do with anything?

Chloe hesitated, then proceeded carefully. “I don’t know how much he told you about his situation, but his best option is probably to get emancipated. He said he wants to finish school; he’ll either have to get emancipated or find a legal guardian to enroll. Plus, he’d be able to get on your lease— if he’s going to be staying. Anyway, Rob said he’ll help him sort it all out.”

Oscar remembered, belatedly, that Rob was a social worker and probably knew all about these kinds of things. He felt rather foolish for not realizing this fact earlier, but since he’d only met the guy a couple of times and had been rather distracted by the fact that fucking **Captain** Levi was living in his apartment, he supposed he could forgive himself for it.

For a moment, he felt a brief twinge of jealousy at the implication that Levi told Chloe more than he’d told him, but he shoved it aside. It was a ridiculous, irrational reaction; Levi didn’t owe him anything. “Okay. Tell Rob thank you for me. Is there anything I should do?”

Chloe hummed thoughtfully and suggested, “Don’t be an asshole? You’re all right at that. But seriously, it sounds like he’s had a rough time, so just give him space and be supportive.”

“You know those are kind of like opposites, right?”

“Shut up, asshole,” she said, but she was laughing. Chloe had a wonderful laugh—loud, unrestrained, and very infectious. Oscar realized anew how much he missed hanging out with her daily and wished she didn’t live so far away. They tried to get together every few months (either visiting the other or meeting somewhere halfway) but it wasn’t nearly the same.

God. Since when had he become so fucking lonely?

When she’d sobered a little, she asked, “Where’d you find Levi anyway? When you said some guy was living with you, I thought you’d decided to give that Bruce dude another chance and just didn’t want to tell me because you knew I’d tear you a new one.”

“Bruce? Fuck no. Give me a little more credit than _that_.” He explained quickly how he’d met Levi at Denny’s and offered him a ride— leaving out, of course, the fact that Levi was also **Captain** Levi and used to stand on Eren’s shoulders and shout orders at him while he marched around as a naked giant.

“And he went with you back to your apartment?” Chloe asked, scandalized. “I mean—not that you’re a rapist or something, but what if you were?”

It troubled Oscar too. Perhaps Levi had just been that desperate or perhaps he was just that brave—though truthfully, it was more foolishness than bravery. “I think he decided I was probably harmless after I spent half an hour talking his ear off about Gossip Girl.”

Chloe was unconvinced. “Oscar, you’re six foot two with linebacker shoulders. You could be sitting there surrounded by puppies and knitting with a wee little grandma and I still wouldn’t get in your car.”

He sniffed in mock indignation. “I’ll have you know that I’ve never played football in my life. These are pitcher shoulders.”

After a little more back and forth (and thanking Chloe again), he hung up and emerged from his bedroom to see about lunch. Levi was sprawled out on his couch, bundled in blankets. How It’s Made played on the TV but Levi didn’t pay it any attention, instead flicking a switch blade open and closed in one hand. Oscar stopped and stared at the casual display of the knife.

“These walls aren’t as thick as you think they are,” Levi commented. He craned his neck to look at Oscar over the couch’s arm. “Gossip Girl helped, but also I figured that if you _did_ try something, you wouldn’t be expecting me to be armed.” He spun the knife deftly before tucking it away again—into his jacket pocket, Oscar realized.

“And what if I’d tried something while you were asleep?”

Levi snorted, then coughed. It sounded better than the night before, the drugs already kicking in. “I didn’t actually sleep that first night.”

Weapon or no weapon, Oscar still thought it was incredibly foolish to go home with a stranger, especially someone eight inches taller and at least sixty pounds heavier than you. The confidence of youth, perhaps? This Levi was only seventeen, after all. “You want any lunch or are you full from the soup?”

Levi pulled himself up to sit more fully against the couch arm and look at Oscar properly. “I don’t get you.”

“…What?”

“Why are you doing this? You—” Levi broke off to cough twice into the crook of his elbow. “You know, I could’ve just as easily robbed or killed _you_ in your sleep, right?”

Oscar couldn’t help it—he laughed. “There’s nothing that valuable in here. Nothing I’d really miss, anyway. And I’m pretty sure I could take you in a fight. I got top marks in hand-to-hand.” Too late, he realized that it was Eren Yeager who’d earned that score, but he couldn’t exactly call the words back into his mouth. Not to mention Eren never bested the **Captain** in a match, but that was the **Captain** , not Levi. This Levi was quick and strong too—and apparently knew his way around a knife— but he lacked the **Captain** ’s decades of experience and ferocity.

Levi waved one hand dismissively. “And besides that—you were just going to let me keep free-loading forever, weren’t you?” The answer must’ve been plain on his face because Levi narrowed his eyes at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t even know me.”

 _I do._ The thought crept out from the darkness of his mind, stepping into the dim light. _Maybe not very well because you’re always so reserved, but I know you. You do what needs to be done because you think it’s better that you dirty your hands than someone else when possible. People think you’re cruel and uncaring and that’s somewhat true, but you can be kind to those that deserve it. You’re bad at expressing yourself because you’ve never trusted people not to turn your emotions into vulnerabilities._

 **Captain** Levi was a product of his environment, beaten and sharpened until he’d been honed into someone that could not only survive but _thrive_ in the cruelest of worlds. This Levi had grown up in a gentler world and was a different person for it, but those fundamental traits—selfless, kind, distant—were still there.  

Of course, he couldn’t explain all that to Levi, not without sounding like a whack job. So instead, he just shrugged. “Life is hard. People should help each other out when they can.”

“Everyone says that,” Levi said, suspicion still lining his face. “Most people don’t really mean it. There’s always an ulterior motive to being nice.”

Oscar grinned, inexplicably amused by this rather juvenile cynicism. “All right, you got me. I do have an ulterior motive.” Levi raised one eyebrow inquisitively, waiting. “I told you that first night, didn’t I? I could really use the company.”

* * *

 

Summer was Oscar’s favorite time of year. When he was younger, summer meant pick-up games of baseball with the other kids in the neighborhood, swimming with his mom and Lisa at the local pool, and entire days where he had nothing to do but go exploring and run around. Now that he was older, summer wasn’t quite as fun (the woes of adult responsibilities and full-time employment) but it was still his favorite season. He loved the heat and the constant ice cream sales at the grocery store and the general atmosphere of relaxation.

Levi, apparently, was not a fan.

“It’s too fucking hot,” he complained, sprawled on the floor beneath the air conditioning unit in track shorts and a tank top. “Humans were never meant to sweat this much. It’s disgusting.” He showered in the morning _and_ evening. Every three days, he threw his binders in the washing machine and scowled at the machine as though that would make it work faster.

Even still, Levi never missed any of Oscar’s baseball games. He’d been recruited by Vivian at the lab, who’d apparently heard he’d played in college—“It was just intramural.” “I don’t care if it was just Little League half a century ago, I need a pitcher.”—and before he knew it, he’d been committed to a game every Sunday.

It wasn’t a very serious league (just a bunch of grown-ups goofing around, really), but it was still fun. Oscar relished the competition and—as Alexis pointed out—it was always good to make more friends at work. Vivian, who played third base and whose love of the game far outstripped her skill at it, was nice. Nice enough that they dated twice before deciding to just stick to baseball.

On game days when he didn’t have a restaurant shift, Levi would come with Oscar out to the field and perch up high on the bleachers where a tree cast some shade, a frozen bottle of water clutched in each hand. He never cheered no matter how well or poorly the game was going. But whenever Oscar was on the mound or at bat, Levi stared so intently Oscar felt his gaze scraping into the back of his skull.

“Baseball is too slow,” he commented after a particularly hot afternoon.

Oscar mopped some sweat from his brow before it could roll into his eyes. Levi tracked the movement, but when Oscar caught his eye, he looked away quickly. “Anything would seem slow compared to your events,” Oscar retorted. “The 100 meter and pole vaulting are both over in, what, ten seconds? You could sneeze and miss it.”

In return for sitting through the brutal heat, Oscar drove Levi across town to mass on Sunday evenings. It was short, so if Oscar couldn’t find some errands to do nearby, he’d just sit in on the service, never mind that he didn’t know what was happening. Between the ritual nature of it and the fact that the service Levi chose was in Spanish, the best Oscar could do was stand when everyone else stood, sit when everyone else sat, and bow his head when every other head bowed.

Despite being lost, it was somewhat soothing to just sit in the last row and let the words and music wash over him. He felt a little guilty being there when he didn’t actually believe in any god—like he was somehow tarnishing it for everyone else—but he figured it was okay so long as he didn’t take communion. He wasn’t there to be disrespectful or anything. He was just there for Levi.

One evening in July, Oscar returned from grocery shopping to pick up Levi from mass at the usual spot. But Levi wasn’t alone. An older man, perhaps in his fifties or so, was talking to him, gesturing widely and face flushed with anger. Levi stood stiffly, hands clenched in loose fists at his sides and interjecting whenever the man paused to breathe. Oscar watched, ready to jump out and help if necessary, but Levi seemed to have the problem under control.

Levi spotted his car and started for it, only to be stopped when the man seized him by the arm. The man looked forward and met eyes with Oscar, brow furrowing before turning to spit something at Levi. Levi’s face darkened with fury and he threw off the man’s grip so violently that the man stumbled back a few steps. In a heartbeat, Levi closed the distance between himself and the car, sliding inside and hissing, “Go.” Oscar obeyed gladly.

Levi didn’t volunteer any information about the scene. Oscar didn’t ask. He made sure to attend the next several masses with Levi, errands and weird guilt be damned. But he didn’t see the angry man at the church again.

He hadn’t gotten a good look at him, but Oscar was positive that the man and Levi had the same eyes.

* * *

 

With the new routine finally, firmly, in place, the weeks sped by fast. Wake up, jog, shower, breakfast with Levi, work, lunch, work, home again. Levi worked the dinner shifts most weekdays, so Oscar usually ate alone at night, either with a movie or TV show buzzing in the background or with his laptop in front of him, browsing.

While Oscar didn’t have to spend nearly as much time hunting for past friends to appease Eren Yaeger as he once did, he still found himself prowling the internet frequently. Mikasa. Armin. Mom. Anyone he could find would be a blessing, but those three were what Eren’s echo craved most. Just to know that they were alive and all right would be enough. He hoped, at least.

So the search continued, though not as frenzied as before. He scanned the news for any vague sign of Eren’s sister and his best friend—reborn or not, he couldn’t imagine them being any less than extraordinary and extraordinary people generally made the news—and checked in frequently at the site he’d privately dubbed Past Life Facebook, always reading the user directory to spot the new additions. It grew at a slow pace—maybe one or two members every month, but each new person was exciting. **IT IS REAL. WE ARE HERE.** the site banner said. With each new person, that simple message felt more and more true.

He didn’t post much in the site’s forums, trying to keep a low profile. He didn’t want to deal with the attention and inquires Eren Yaeger’s name may draw to him. But he read the threads, all of them; activity was so slow that there was no point not to. Most of the threads were the same, people either looking for a particular person or inquiring if anyone knew the circumstances for someone’s death, attempting to determine how long they’d be forced to wait for their rebirth. But some of the threads stuck out.

Like this one.

Oscar had only skimmed it absently at first, as he did all the posts. The text of the post was in English like all the other threads, but it was strangely stilted, as if it’d come from Google Translate or someone that only knew basic English. The message was clear enough though: they were looking for their brother.

As did most posts, this one had an image embedded in it where the poster wrote further details by hand to get names of places and other important terms across better. The handwriting was unsteady, language simple, and many words miswritten. Oscar stared at it in puzzlement, wondering if the OP had died at a very young age or something. Or perhaps they’d come from a poorer district with no schools and only learned the fundamentals of writing. Trying to read it gave Oscar a bit of a headache. He was about to click away when his eyes caught on a single word in the handwritten message.

OP knew this word well. Its characters were written confidently, with a sure hand, making it stand in stark contrast to the rest of the scribbles.

No fucking way.

Pulse pounding in his ears, he tried to decode the rest of the handwritten message, but all he gleaned from it was, again, the poster was looking for someone—their brother, if the English text portion was correct— and that name. Levi.

It couldn’t be. Not possible. Levi wasn’t that uncommon of a name. There was no way they were looking for his Levi because— what were the fucking chances?

His eyes flicked up to the top of the thread, where the username and district of the poster was always listed.

Isabel Magnolia. **Underground.**

For the first time in all the years he’d used the site, Oscar sent a private message. _Your brother you said you’re looking for. Do you mean Levi the army officer?_ He was too frantic to be bothered with finding a notebook and camera to snap the handwritten message necessary to properly convey **Captain** of the **Survey Corps**. 

A day later, the reply came. _He was forced to join the army, but he is not an officer._

Forced to join? Oscar groped into the darkness of his mind, trying to grasp every rumor Eren had ever heard about **Captain** Levi’s enlistment. _What do you mean “forced to join?”_

Another day passed. Oscar practically haunted his inbox, waiting. Finally, just before he went to bed, the message arrived. _Explain everything in English is difficult._ _You have skype? Call me when you get this. I will wait._ And a Skype username.

He installed Skype and checked that Levi was thoroughly asleep out in the living room before attempting the call. After a few tense moments, the grainy image of an older Asian woman filled his screen. She looked somewhere in the range of her thirties or forties. A burn scar stretched out, hot and red, on her left cheek. He didn’t recognize her.

“Hello?” she said hesitantly.

“Hi,” he replied. “Uh, my name is Oscar.”

“My name is Lien.” Her accent was fairly thick, but perfectly understandable. Still, he could tell it was an effort for her.

“ **And also** Isabel Magnolia?” he asked, switching over to the language most comfortable for the both of them.

A broad smile cracked Lien’s nervous lips and she suddenly looked decades younger. “ **Yeah. Hello,** Eren Yaeger.”

“ **I have someone living with me right now named** Levi,” he began, done with any pleasantries. “ **But I’m not sure if he is the one you are looking for. He is the Captain of the Survey Corps, our strongest soldier.** ”

Lien tilted her head to one side thoughtfully. **“Big Brother is very strong and he did join the Survey Corps because that bastard made him, but I died not long after. Maybe he becomes a Captain later?”**

“ **What bastard?** ”

“ **Our mark,** ” she answered. At Oscar’s confused expression, she scrunched up her face and stared upwards, straining. **“It’s hard to remember his name. Big and blond? His face is kind of scary.”**

“Erwin Smith?”he suggested.

Her face lit up. “ **Yes!** Erwin Smith. **We are supposed to steal some important papers from him. Big Brother wants to kill him too because Smith had his face slammed in the mud.** ”

And that silly, little detail finally convinced him beyond any doubt. It was the sort of thing the **Captain** would do—threaten homicide over some mud. He couldn’t believe this was happening—he’d found **Captain** Levi’s little sister and he hadn’t even known one existed. He licked his lips and told her, “ **I’m pretty sure I have your** Levi **then.** ” Even as heavily pixelated as it was, her expression was ecstatic. He hastened to add, “ **He’s young though; he doesn’t remember anything.** ”

“ **I figured he wouldn’t, not yet. How old is he?** ”

“ **Seventeen.** ”

Her eyes narrowed on him through the screen. “ **And who are you? Why do you have Big Brother anyway?** ”

It occurred to him that Lien— Isabel— had probably never learned anything about **Titan Shifters** if she’d died around the same time Levi enlisted. The only way she could know was if she encountered someone who’d lived longer. Not wanting to begin any long, drawn-out explanations, he just said, “ **He is my commanding officer. I found him by chance back in May. He was in a tight spot and I wanted to help. He’s lived with me ever since.** ” While Lien digested that, he pressed, “ **And you are his sister?** ” Somehow, that was a bit hard to believe. The **Captain** had always seemed so isolated.

“ **Not by blood. He took me in when I was younger and had no one else left.**

He immediately thought of Mikasa, shivering from the cold and asking Eren’s father for directions back to her empty house. Yes. Not by blood, but family nonetheless.

**“I want to see him.”**

The statement, sudden but firm, knocked Oscar out from his musing. “ **Um… he’s asleep right now. But I guess I could think of some story to tell him and wake him up.** ”

Lien shook her head. “No,” she said in English. “Where are you? America?” Bewildered, Oscar answered yes. “I go to you. I…” She trailed off, frowning in frustration and switching languages again. “ **I must see him with my own eyes. And speak to him, even if only once.** ”

After some emailing back and forth and a few more Skype calls, they set a date in late September (still a couple weeks away) and schemed a tale for Levi. Since Levi had already formed the assumption that Oscar was ex-army, they would claim to have met when Oscar was stationed at a base in Vietnam years ago. They swapped vital information about each other, things that friends of several years would be expected to know. Oscar didn’t think it would be necessary since Levi would hardly quiz them on their birthdays and lists of family members and such. While Levi never hesitated to ask questions about Oscar anymore, he rarely pried and never broached any topic that might be related to Oscar’s fictitious army days. He probably thought it was a sensitive topic, what with his PTSD.

So that Levi wouldn’t be completed blindsided by Lien’s upcoming arrival, Oscar warned him several days before hand. “A friend is flying in from Vietnam in a few days to visit.”

Normally, a person would ask all manner of questions after a statement like that—How long are they staying? What is their name? What are they like? What are you going to do while they’re in town?—but Levi just looked up from where he was cutting paper on the floor, cast his eyes around the apartment, and asked, “Where are they going to sleep?”

“Slee— Oh, no. She’s staying at a hotel.” There was nowhere else a person could comfortably sleep in the apartment besides crawling into bed with Oscar. Unless they weren’t opposed to a sleeping bag, but Oscar was hardly going to let someone who flew all the way from another country sleep on the ground. His mother raised him to have better manners than that. If Lien hadn’t said she was staying at a hotel, Oscar would’ve offered to pay for one himself.

Satisfied that he wouldn’t have to sacrifice his couch to a guest, Levi nodded and returned his attention back to his cutting, which Oscar assumed was for some sort of project. With Rob’s help, Levi had managed to enroll himself at the neighborhood public high school to finish his final year. The school year had only been underway for a couple of weeks, but Levi was already loaded down with trying to balance class and work. Oscar wasn’t sure when exactly Levi slept between being at school seven hours every weekday, finishing a stack of homework every night, and working thirty hours a week, but he knew better than to suggest revising their 60/40 rent split. Levi would probably find a second job and start working even more hours just to prove he could handle it.

Oscar believed he could handle it—he believed that Levi could accomplish pretty much anything he set his mind to—but that didn’t make him feel any less guilty about taking Levi’s money to pay for a rent Oscar could easily afford on his own.

“What’s all this?” Oscar asked, kneeling to examine the papers Levi was methodically slicing through with his scissors. “It’s barely the third week of school; how can you already have a project?”

“Gov teacher let us sign up for presentation dates. I volunteered for the first day because I figured I’d only get busier later on.”

Oscar stared at the strips already cut out and the stack of paper still awaiting their sharp fate. “Has your gov teacher never heard of powerpoint presentations?”

“Apparently not.” Levi procured a tri-fold poster board from beside the board and started arranging some of the cut strips onto it, checking how well they all fitted. “I think he wishes he taught kindergarten. His class involves an awful lot of arts and crafts bullshit.”

Oscar retrieved a second pair of scissors and began snipping, doing his best to keep his lines just as clean as Levi’s. Levi didn’t reject the help, which Oscar took to mean he actually wanted to sleep at some point tonight. “How’s school?”

“Fine,” Levi said. He ran a glue stick over the poster board in careful strokes. “Not as much homework as my old one. I miss track though.”

“What about the people?”

“Teachers haven’t been a problem.” Levi smoothed the paper strips with his presentation title over the glue spot, not leaving any air bubbles. “Some of the students are shitty, but most of them are fine.”

After several long talks with Chloe, Levi had decided to be present as male at his new school. “I’m sick of hiding. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. Besides, it’s only a year anyway,” he’d said when both Chloe and, later, Oscar cautioned him. Even with a legal name change and the faculty’s agreement to use the correct name and pronouns, Levi wouldn’t visually pass as male under any level of actual scrutiny. It left him open to verbal and physical abuse from any asshole that might take issue with him being himself.

Oscar wondered whether Levi would actually tell him if things at school got bad, but he believed Levi when he said he didn’t care what anyone else thought. Levi was, if nothing else, brave. “Well, I regret to inform you that while some people outgrow shitty-ness, others don’t.” He messed up on one of his cuts and frowned as he tried to even it out with some more snipping. “I mean—and this isn’t really the same, but— I get mistaken for a janitor at least once a month at work. Sometimes even when I’m standing right over the fucking centrifuge and I’m clearly running tests.”

Levi stopped gluing for a moment and looked up at him. “Are you the only black guy there?”

“Yeah. Only one in a lot of my college classes too.”  
  
Levi’s lips pressed into a thin line and he turned the glue stick over in his hands a few times before returning to work. He pressed down several more paper strips before speaking his mind. “I don’t think I’m going to college.”

Oscar stilled, the scissors hanging loose in his fingers. “Why not?”

“I can’t afford it.”

“You _think_ you can’t afford it or you _know_ you can’t afford it? Because you’re straddling the poverty line—you have to be eligible for financial aid. And your grades are decent, aren’t they? You might be able to get a merit scholarship too.”

Levi leaned back on his palms. He hadn’t showered yet—hadn’t even changed out of his work clothes—and still smelled faintly of the restaurant. His face was flat, tired. Oscar wondered how much homework Levi still had left after this poster board.

“Do you want to go to college?” Oscar asked.

Levi’s eyes flicked up to his, bright despite his exhaustion. “I want a good job. Seems like to get one, you need a degree.”

That wasn’t necessarily true. Besides, with the current economy, it was difficult to get a good job even with a degree. Generally speaking though, a Bachelors was the right start. “So talk to the school counselor, see what they say. Rob might be helpful too, since you’d be filing your FAFSA as an independent. College might not be as out of reach as you think. ”

Oscar didn’t know whether or not Levi actually had spoken with his school counselor or Rob, but a few nights later Oscar spied Levi browsing state universities online.

* * *

 

Lien had messaged him the day before she arrived, informing him that her flight landed the next afternoon and she expected to be at his apartment around seven, his time. She’d chosen a Tuesday arrival date under Oscar’s advisement. Most of the time, Levi didn’t work Tuesday nights. That held true this Tuesday. Levi was home, calculus homework spread out over their little kitchen table. Oscar was trying—and failing—to resist the urge to pace.

“How long has it been since you last saw her?” Levi asked. “In person, I mean.”

He tried to remember that piece of information from their cover story, but couldn’t. “Years,” he answered vaguely.

“And she’s coming all the way from Vietnam just to see you?”

This he could at least answer somewhat truthfully. “Not just me. She has some family nearby she’s visiting too.” _You,_ he thought. There was another layer of truth to it too; Lien did actually have some relatives nearby, if one stretched “nearby” to mean two states away. Of course, two states was nothing compared to the entire Pacific Ocean. She planned to visit an uncle she hadn’t seen since she was a child, along with his wife and children that she’d never met, before returning home. All in all, she’d only be visiting them for a few hours tonight.

And she’d be here any minute.

Oscar wondered, wildly, if he should’ve made dinner already. He had plenty of pre-cooked food in his fridge from the weekend, but this was a special night.

“So, is she a friend or an ex?”

Oscar stopped his pacing, nearly stubbing his toe on a chair leg. “What?”

Levi tapped his pencil’s eraser against the table top. “You’re really nervous.”

 _And you’re really nosy._ Levi usually didn’t pry so much. In fact, he and Lien were counting on his indifference to pull this whole charade off. Why all the questions all of a sudden?

Oscar was saved from having to respond by Lien knocking. He bolted to the door, repeating to himself, _Relax, it’ll be fine, relax_ , and opened the door.

Seeing her in real life and not through Skype’s fuzzy video display was strange. Her burn scar stood out brighter on face, hair not quite as black. He hadn’t given much thought to her height, but she was short—Oscar would be surprised if she broke into five feet. “Hey,” he said, a little breathless, and then he froze. What came next?

“Hi,” she said, and moved forward to hug him in a smooth, natural movement. He returned the embrace, hands feeling large and awkward on her unfamiliar back.

She pulled away and his basic manners kicked in, overriding his awkwardness. “How was your trip? Any problems?”

“No problem.” She peered around him to stare into the apartment. “ **Is he here?** ”

“ **Yes. Here, come inside.** ”

He stepped aside and Lien entered, every inch of her humming with anticipation as she followed him into the kitchen. Levi looked up from his calculus problems. Oscar heard Lien’s breath catch in her throat.

“Lien, this is my roommate, Levi Garcia Aguilar. Levi, this is my friend, Phan Thi Lien.”

Levi nodded once. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to…. nice to meet you.” Lien stared at Levi, eyes wide and lips parted ever so slightly. For a moment, her legs trembled and Oscar’s hand hovered near her elbow, ready to hold her up if she collapsed. Her eyes suddenly flooded with tears, but she didn’t brush them aside. “I’m sorry,” Lien said. “The plane was long. I’m tired.” Her wide, almost delirious smile clashed with the excuse, but no one challenged her on it.

“Do you want something to drink?” Oscar offered, trying to divert attention away from her odd behavior.

“Tea?” she asked hopefully.

Levi rose from the table. “I’ll make some.”

With Levi digging through the cabinets, Lien finally wiped her face. “ **Sorry** ,” she told Oscar. “ **I guess I’m not as ready as I thought.** ”

“ **It’s all right. I felt pretty much the same when I first saw him.** ”

“ **He’s so young,** ” she exclaimed, wonder coloring her voice.

Oscar laughed. Levi looked over at the pair of them curiously, but his attention soon returned to the tea preparation. “ **That’s what I thought too. How old was the Captain when you first met him?** ”

Lien’s face screwed up in thought, slightly uneven due to the scar on one side. “ **I don’t know. I’m not sure if I can’t remember or if I never knew. Big Brother is probably at least ten years older than me though. So this is… very strange.** ”

“ **Tell me about it.** ”

Like him, Lien didn’t seem to notice anything odd about Levi’s physical appearance. Oscar always had to strain to notice any “feminine” attributes, to see him as a stranger might. When he looked at Levi, he saw him as he was now _and_ then. He just… looked like Levi.

He wondered what Lien would look like if he’d ever known Isabel Magnolia.

“Do you want anything in your tea?” Levi asked.

Lien startled, blinked, and looked to Oscar for help. “In your tea?”

“ **He wants to know if you want something extra in your tea. We’ve got sugar, milk… maybe honey.** ”

“No. Tea is fine. Only tea. ” Lien grinned, abashed. “I’m sorry. My English isn’t very good.”

“Don’t ever apologize for your English,” Levi told her. Before she’d even had a chance to digest that, Levi turned to Oscar. “You want any?”

“No, thanks. I’m going to start dinner though.” He glanced at Lien, this stranger who was supposed to be a friend, his mind flicking through available ingredients and fast recipes. “Do you like salmon?”

* * *

 

While Oscar blackened salmon in the skillet, cooked yellow rice, and steamed broccoli, Lien peppered Levi with questions. What was he working on? Did he like school? Where did he work? Where did he grow up? Occasionally, Lien was unable to express or comprehend an idea adequately and Oscar would have to call out a translation from the stove. Levi seemed bemused by all the attention, but he answered her questions readily enough, patiently repeating himself and re-wording his answers when necessary.

It felt rude to eavesdrop, but short of plugging his ears there wasn’t anything Oscar could do to stop listening. And, if he was perfectly honest, he _wanted_ to listen. Lien was far more invasive with her questioning than he’d ever dared to be. Most of the information was stuff he already knew, but he learned that Levi was born in Oklahoma City, he used to sing in his church’s children’s choir, and his father owned an auto mechanic shop. That last fact was the first thing Oscar had ever heard Levi say about his parents. Lien quickly abandoned the topic of his family though; Levi’s demeanor broadcasted how little he wished to discuss them.

When Oscar finished cooking and Levi swept the (long abandoned) calculus papers off the table, Lien made an effort to display some interest in Oscar too, for the sake of the charade. She asked after his mother, his job, his health— nodding and grimacing and sighing in all the appropriate places. The mention of his health made him wonder if Lien struggled the same way he did; surely someone from the **Underground** would have all sorts of trauma. But the topic was too complex for Lien’s English and Oscar felt rude conducting long conversations Levi couldn’t understand right in front of him. He’d have to ask another time.

As much as Lien tried not to focus on Levi exclusively, it was plain to Oscar that he held no interest for her. Once she’d been satisfied that he wasn’t harming Levi in any way, she cared little about anything else to do with him. She fought to keep up their friends act, but, inevitably, her eyes always drifted back to Levi, drinking in the sight of him over and over.

Finally, when all the food was eaten, Lien leaned forward in her chair and asked Levi the question that Oscar suspected she’d been building up to all along.

“Are you happy?”

“Happy?” Levi frowned, glancing to Oscar to see if a translation would be coming. But Lien didn’t murmur any supplements to Oscar. She just stared at Levi intently, eyes boring into him to record every detail. “I’m not sad. Things could be worse.”

Lien absorbed this, waiting a few beats after Levi stopped talking to see if he was truly done. Then, she screwed up her face in concentration and amended her question. “ _Free._ Are you… free?”

Ah. This was it, Oscar realized. The reason why Lien—no, Isabel— had travel thousands of miles just for a single conversation with Levi. If he learned where Mikasa or Armin or Mom was, his first priority would be same. Were they free? Had this new world, this new life, allowed them to break away from the desperation that caged them like beasts? Or were they still bound, tethered to an existence of near constant despair? _Were they happy?_

Levi’s tolerance for the evening’s weirdness was finally running dry. He looked to Oscar uncertainly, but Oscar only shrugged. Coming from a stranger, it was a very strange, invasive question. Whether or not Levi answered it was up to him.

Levi looked back to Lien, literally waiting on the edge of her seat for an answer. “I’m not sure what you mean by ‘free,’” he began. “But I guess I feel freer now than I ever have before.”

For a moment, Oscar feared that Lien might tear up all over again. He didn’t know how he was going to reason away her eccentric behavior once she was gone—Levi would surely want to know what her deal was after her peculiar obsession with him. But Lien breathed deeply and reined herself in. “That is good,” she murmured. “That is very good.”

Lien left not long later, her spirits buoyant. She hugged Oscar again—a genuine one this time, not a pretend pleasantry. Then she locked eyes with Levi and said, voice grave and eyes shining, “Thank you for everything, Levi. I not know if I will see you. When you… you are older. But thank you.”

And then she stepped out the door and the night swept her away, leaving Oscar to try to explain.

* * *

 

By the time all the trees’ leaves had changed color, it felt like Levi had always lived with Oscar. His belongings (few, but a definite increase from the backpack and gym bag he’d arrived with) could be found all over the apartment. He cooked breakfast while Oscar jogged and Oscar kept leftovers warm for when Levi would finally return home from work at night. Oscar knew Levi’s schedule and routine as well as he knew his own— which shifts he rarely worked, what times he liked to shower and pray, even the occasional days Levi might send him a text asking him to pick up tampons while he was grocery shopping.

Oscar learned to recognize the furrow between Levi’s brows that meant he needed someone to rant to about an asshole he’d ran into. In turn, Levi learned to distinguish between Oscar’s usual twitchiness and the twitchiness that preluded a panic attack. They argued about the ideal thermostat setting, what to watch on Netflix, and who should tell their foul-tempered landlord that the dish washer was leaking water _again_.

During thunderstorms, Oscar sat in his tiny closet with music blasting through his earbuds until Levi knocked on the door and told him it was okay to come out. When Levi went clothes shopping, he asked Oscar to come with and fetch sizes up and sizes down while he cursed quietly in the fitting room. _Pinches caderas_ entered Oscar’s very limited Spanish vocabulary.

Some nights when Levi worked late, Oscar fell asleep on the couch and woke to Levi’s hand gentle on his shoulder, his gaze warm and affectionate even as Levi kicked him off his couch.

Oscar’s mind was still dark, riddled with tiny pinpricks of lights. Eren’s memories. The core of Eren Yaeger himself. But it didn’t hurt as much to stare into the lights’ glare and eventually each blaze subsided into a soft glow.

They lived through good days where smiling came easily and nothing was impossible. They lived through bad days when the entire uncaring world rained shit down on them. They lived.

* * *

 

When Oscar extended his mother’s invitation to Thanksgiving dinner to Levi, he never thought in a million years that Levi would agree. Plane tickets were expensive, even within the same region, and Levi wouldn’t let Oscar pay his way for it. Levi insisted on paying him back for everything, even the tiniest of expenses. He’d never accept sinking into the kind of debt a plane ticket would incur.

But when Oscar mentioned that Louise said Levi was more than welcome to stay for Thanksgiving, Levi consulted his checking account, then asked “Which flight are you on?”

What followed was about three minutes of “Are you sure?” and “You should really save your money for college or a car or something,” and “She’ll totally understand if you don’t come, she’s really not even expecting you to.”

Levi tolerated this with narrowed eyes before finally folding his arms over his chest. “Do you not want me to come?”

“No!” Oscar blurted. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the heat of a blush creeping up it. “I’d love if you came, but—”

“Then I’m coming. Which flight?” Oscar hesitated and Levi scowled. “It’s my money, I’ll do what I want with it.”

“…And you want to spend Thanksgiving with me and my mom?”

That disarmed Levi, the scowl falling away to be replaced by something softer and uncertain. His answer was firm though. “Yes.”

So when Louise picked them up from the airport at an obscenely early hour on Thanksgiving morning, she ignored her son in favor of seizing Levi in a crushing hug that lifted him a few inches off the ground.

“It is so nice to finally meet you,” she gushed. “I’ve heard so much about you from Oscar. Oh, I’m so glad you came.”

“Yeah, hi, Mom. Nice to see you too,” Oscar said snidely to cover his embarrassment. He didn’t talk about Levi _that_ much. It only seemed that way because there wasn’t much else to talk about.

His mother released Levi to brush a kiss against Oscar’s cheek. “You know you’ll always be my favorite son.” Oscar rolled his eyes, but didn’t bother reminding her that he was her only son.

Even in her fifties, Louise Deveaux cut a striking figure. She was tall and dark-skinned with a wide, heart-shaped face and brilliant smile. She bestowed this smile on Oscar and Levi in equal measure, pleased to see her son again after his time away and pleased to meet anyone that kept her son company in a city full of strangers. When Oscar broke the news that his roommate was actually still in high school, it barely gave her a moment’s pause. “Is he responsible?” was all she asked, to which Oscar replied, “Extremely.”

In anticipation of Louise actually seeing Levi in person, Oscar had seen fit to warn her that although Levi was definitely a guy, he didn’t exactly _look_ like one. Even still, she mustn’t call him a girl, or use female pronouns, or imply that he was anything other than a guy. His mother only scoffed. “I would never be so rude.”

“I didn’t say you would be, I just didn’t want you to be confused—”

“—I know what transgender people are, Oscar. They aren’t some recent invention. Ah, speaking of which, my Kindle started doing something weird. Do you think you could take a look at it while you’re here?”

If Levi was at all overwhelmed by Louise’s effusiveness, he didn’t comment on it. A restaurant veteran of several years herself, the two of them struck up a lengthy conversation about the horrors of serving while Oscar stared out the window at his hometown passing by, occasionally offering his own anecdotes. Before heading home, they stopped at the store for groceries (“Thanksgiving is _today_. You haven’t grocery shopped already?” “Well, I didn’t know what foods Levi liked. So I figured I should just shop with him here.” “…You got distracted by a deadline and forgot, didn’t you?” “Oh, hush, Oscar.”)  

By the time they emerged from the supermarket-turned-battlefield, Oscar was ready to go back to sleep. The press of crowds in the packed store and stressed atmosphere had set him on edge, making a nap seem like a wonderful idea. But Louise set him and Levi to work peeling potatoes, mixing corn bread, and pressing pie crusts into pans. Louise’s forgetfulness had robbed them of a Thanksgiving turkey since trying to defrost one now would be ridiculous, but no one was opposed to ham instead.

Levi, at least, seemed to notice Oscar’s flagging energy. Without comment, he volunteered for the more complicated food prep jobs and spoke more than usual, enough to cover Oscar’s share of the conversation. As his mother told Levi about her freelance illustration work, Oscar concentrated on the repetitive task of cutting green beans, focusing on the smooth texture of the vegetables between his fingers and the earthy smell they gave off until the inside of his mind no longer seemed quite so endlessly black.

By the time they were done cooking, Oscar found his second wind, allowing him to enjoy the meal properly. He tucked in eagerly, demolishing a full plate and then a second before finally succumbing to his stuffed stomach. He leaned back in his seat for a few minutes to digest, grinning at a joke his mother cracked. Before long though, he was up on his feet to start putting the leftovers away and wash the dishes.

“Leave the dishes for now, Oscar. They’ll be just as dirty later tonight. Or even tomorrow,” his mother groaned.

“We can’t leave all of these sitting overnight,” Oscar protested, scandalized. “Not unless they need to soak.”

Levi got up and joined him at the sink, tugging on a pair of yellow, rubber gloves with a loud snap. Louise sighed. “You two boys make me look bad.”

“No one’s saying you have to help, Mom,” Oscar said as he scrubbed a casserole dish. “Just relax.”

Louise pushed out her chair and hung her head in mock sorrow. “No. I better go clean my bathroom before you see it and nag me.”

“…Did you remember to clean the guest bathroom?”

“Give me some credit, Oscar. Who’s the mother here?”

Oscar nearly shot something back in response, but was startled by Levi’s sudden snort beside him. “What?” he demanded. But Levi just shook his head, failing to keep a smile from twisting his mouth upward.

Louise smiled too and said something to Levi in Spanish. Oscar remembered with horror that Louise had met his father during the three years she’d spent painting in Spain and that she'd always been better at languages than him. Levi lit up and replied in kind. Oscar hoped that European Spanish and Mexican Spanish would be incompatible, but no such luck. Soon the two of them were thick as thieves, speaking quickly but not so fast that Oscar didn’t hear his own name passing between them several times.

“It’s rude to talk about someone who can’t understand,” he said when his mother snuck a glance at him and spoke with a distinctly teasing tone.

They both paused and then laughed, Louise clutching the counter for support as she bent over. Levi’s laughter wasn’t nearly as dramatic, but he rarely laughed so openly. Oscar stared. Levi’s eyes were squeezed shut, mouth opened wide with his chin tucked close to his chest. All the stress and aloofness that usually weighed his expression down was wiped away, replaced by mirth and a broad smile that made Oscar’s heart thump painfully.

Levi’s laughter petered out and he opened his eyes to look directly into Oscar’s. His mouth closed into a smaller, more private smile that was somehow all the more lovely. The crockery Oscar held slipped from his grip, sloshing water over the sides of the sink. He cursed loudly and bent to wipe up the floor. By the time Oscar rose again, his mother had left the kitchen and Levi had commandeered the sink, a grin still pulling at the corners of his mouth.

* * *

 

Later that night, Levi excused himself to work on homework and Oscar curled up on the couch with his mom to marathon some Scandal episodes.

“He’s very sweet,” Louise said quietly.

He wasn’t sure “sweet” really applied to Levi, but he couldn’t quite disagree with the assessment either. He made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.

Louise sipped her wine. “Much too young to be out on his own,” she continued.

Oscar hadn’t told his mother anything about Levi’s domestic circumstances since he didn’t really know anything for sure himself, but it wasn’t really hard to guess. His youth was extremely apparent on his face, no matter how capable he was. There were only so many reasons why someone would be alone at that age. “He does all right at making his own way.”

“Yes, but he shouldn’t have to.”

“He shouldn’t,” Oscar agreed.

Louise set her wine glass aside and grasped one of Oscar’s hands firmly in her own. Her brown eyes were wide, demanding his complete attention. “Oscar,” she said. “You be careful with him.”

Oscar shifted uncomfortably, not really understanding the depth of her strange, serious tone. “I will.”

She examined his expression, eyes flicking over him to pick it apart. Her lips quirked up into a sudden smile and she reached up to stroke his temple briefly with her thumb. “Sometimes I wonder how anything manages to penetrate this thick skull of yours,” she teased.

Oscar wanted to defend his intelligence, but he was more than a little lost. “I get by somehow,” he retorted instead.

Louise flicked him on the forehead and released his hand. “Be quiet now; Olivia is talking.”

Oscar leaned heavily against the couch arm, settling in to watch smart people make terrible messes of their lives—but not before checking the next few episode summaries on his phone to make sure nothing too violent was about to happen.

* * *

 

Voices in the kitchen woke him. He startled, disoriented momentarily until he realized he must’ve fallen asleep on the couch. Oscar laid his head back down on the couch pillow, too sleepy to find his way to his old bedroom. His back would protest in the morning, but for now the couch seemed blissfully comfortable.

He’d nearly drifted off again when he caught the syllables of his name and realized that his mother and Levi were talking about him.

“How is Oscar, really?” Louise asked. In the living room, Oscar waited for an answer he both wanted and did not want to hear.

Levi didn’t say anything at all for a long moment. Finally, he hedged, “What do you mean?”

“You know he has PTSD, right?” Levi must’ve nodded because she continued on. “He always tells me he’s fine. He promised me he’d let me know if things got bad and I don’t doubt he will.” She sighed and there was a shuffle of soft movement. “But the two of us have very different definitions of ‘bad.’”

Oscar recalled, not long after he’d woken up after the… roof jumping incident, his mother crying and repeatedly blaming herself. “I never should’ve let you leave. I thought you were okay. I _wanted_ to believe that, so I convinced myself,” she'd said, scrubbing her hands over her face.

In an attempt to make Louise feel better, he’d told her, “I _was_ all right; things weren’t that bad when I first left. It only got bad later.” His attempt failed spectacularly. She took one look at him, shook her head, and burst into fresh tears.

Levi was quiet. Oscar imagined he could hear him thinking even from the living room. “…I don’t know what he was like before,” he said, each word careful and deliberate. “But I think he really is fine. He seems depressed sometimes and he’s really… jumpy, but most of the time he’s okay. I’ve been there for some of his attacks and those can get pretty bad. But I don’t think they’re anything he can’t handle.”

Oscar released a low breath when Levi finished, relieved that Levi hadn’t told Louise about the time he’d bitten his hand bloody during a flashback. Oscar had never told his mother about that, not wanting to worry her unnecessarily. Ever since the time with the roof, she was very sensitive about him doing anything she interpreted as self-harm.

He heard Louise take a long sip of something. Chamomile tea, probably. “That’s good to hear. He probably thinks he’s too old for me to fuss over him, but I can’t help worrying.” She set the mug down on the table with a soft clunk. Oscar knew, from a thousand conversations with his mother before, that she was surely clenching it between her two hands and staring down into her blurry reflection. “Sometimes there’s this look in his eyes, like he’s somewhere far, far away.”

Levi made a low noise of agreement. Several minutes passed with nothing but the sounds of the living room clock ticking and the wind whistling outside. Oscar’s eyelids were starting to get heavy. As quietly as possible, he turned on the couch to bury his face into the pillow and get comfortable But then, his mother spoke again.

“I don’t mean to pressure you. But it’s really a relief that someone is home with him now. I never thought it was a good idea, him living alone. I would appreciate it if you kept an eye on him for me, for as long as you’re there.”

That stung. Oscar didn’t need anybody to keep an eye on him. He was ill, not incompetent. When he needed help, he asked for help, and that was the end of it. He knew that she loved him and worried about him—and he’d certainly given her reason to worry, in the past—but he wasn’t a kid. He didn’t need _supervision_.

He’d begun to sit up, ready to march into the kitchen and tell her off, when Levi replied in quick, cutting Spanish. He didn’t know what Levi said—and, oh, he wished he did—but his sharp tone was enough of a clue.

A chair skidded backwards in the kitchen and someone rose to their feet, moving towards the living room. Oscar let his body go limp in his best imitation of sleep. But then Louise called, “Wait,” and the person, Levi, stopped walking.

Louise’s answer was soft, almost kind. Her Spanish came slowly, but each syllable sounded sure. Confident.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Levi said. The English sounded harsh and abrupt after the flowing Spanish exchange. “You should apologize to him though.”

Oscar could hear the smile in his mother’s voice and wondered at its source. “I’ll try. Good night, Levi.”

“Good night.”

* * *

 

She did apologize, though Oscar never would’ve recognized it as an apology if he hadn’t been eavesdropping. She’d come in and sat on his bed while he repacked for the return trip—how he’d managed to spread all his belongings out so far in only two days, he didn’t know. As he folded clothes, she said, “You know that I am very proud of you, right?”

“Have I done something to be proud of lately?” Oscar asked wryly. He took a small measure of pride in simple things, like dragging himself to work even when he felt terrible or managing to firmly ground himself instead of spinning off into a flash back. But it was hard to imagine anyone else finding much to celebrate in such private victories. Chloe was somehow balancing a recent promotion, new responsibilities included, with graduate school in the night time and wedding planning. That was something to really be proud of.

“You’re here. I don’t need any more than that to be proud of you.” Louise stood up to put her hands on his shoulders, making him look her in the face and see her glowing eyes. “You’ve grown to be so strong.” One corner of her mouth twisted upward ruefully. “I just need to work harder at remembering that.”

And just like that, all the lingering anger that’d been gnawing at his bones washed away. His shoulders sagged slightly as he leaned into his mother a little. “I’m not strong all the time,” he admitted, voice small. “Sometimes…” He trailed off, wondering how to begin to explain the tenuous grip he had on Özgür Gözübüyük. “ I’m not even _here_.”

Louise hugged him around the shoulders. Oscar dropped the clothes in his hands to embrace her properly. She kissed his temple and he shuddered, sucking in a long breath to try to keep from crying. “You’ll always find your way back,” she told him. “And when it’s hard on your own, you have people around you that want to help.”

Oscar nodded. Louise squeezed him again, one hand smoothing down his back. Oscar clung to her and allowed himself a minute—just one, precious minute—to feel like a child.

* * *

 

The layover was only supposed to be half an hour, but the storm ruined that. The intercom informed the terminal of disgruntled people to expect a two hour wait, possibly longer. Levi quickly claimed two of the plastic seats, glaring at anyone who tried to encroach on their space, while Oscar went off in search of coffee for him and a chai tea latte for Levi. It didn’t take him long to find a Starbucks, but waiting in line was another matter. By the time he got to the counter, he decided that he was hungry too and wound up buying two sandwiches as well.

He made his way back to their terminal, purchases clutched precariously as he wove through the thick crowd. He was nearly back, safe and sound, when he clipped his shoulder against someone else’s and lost his grip on the sandwich bag. The man caught the sandwiches deftly with one hand, the other steadying Oscar until he found his balance again.

“Sorry, thanks,” Oscar said, reclaiming his food and checking that the drinks hadn’t sloshed over their brims.

A deep voice with a French accent answered him. “No, it was my—” The voice stopped. Oscar looked up from his cups and froze as well.

His first reaction was an odd pleasure that he was taller than him now. His second was a wild urge to drop the sandwiches, drop the drinks, and punch him in the nose right in the middle of the airport. Some of that second reaction must’ve leaked onto his face because the man who was once Bertolt cringed and said, “I guess you remember then.”

“Yeah,” he replied slowly, not knowing what else to say. Did he even have anything to say to Bertolt? The anger strained inside his rib cage, bubbling up into his throat. He’d been an ally—someone Eren admired, even— and his betrayal had cut a deep wound, leaving Eren more reluctant to trust and so, so furious. No, he didn’t have anything to say to Bertolt. Or, at least, nothing that wouldn’t devolve into screaming and result in Oscar getting dragged away by security. He turned to leave, just walk away, but the man stopped him with a light touch on his arm.

“I never got to tell you,” he said, words rushed and clipped. “But I am sorry about your mother. Truly. I knew people would die, but I never… I _am_ sorry, Eren.” His urgency made Oscar hesitate just a moment, long enough for the man to dig out a business card and pressed it into Oscar’s already occupied fingers. “Please… would you tell me if you see Annie or Reiner?”

Oscar wanted to say no, to snap at him and shred the business card to tiny pieces. But he understood the desperation seeped deep into Bertolt’s new face, felt it in his own bones when he thought of Mikasa and Armin. So he jerked his head in an approximation of a nod, pocketed the card, and marched away before he wound up exploding and making a scene.

Levi had successfully defended their seats from the desperate people in the crowded terminal and Oscar collapsed into the spot next to him, thrusting the sandwiches and chai tea in his general direction. He attempted to take a sip of his own coffee, but discovered that his hands were trembling.

“Are you okay?” Levi asked. Oscar tried to answer, but his mouth was too dry. Levi reached over and carefully freed the coffee cup from his fierce grip before it spilled everywhere. Oscar buried his face in his hands, curling in on his knees. Oh. It wasn’t just his hands. His entire body was trembling. Adrenaline-fuelled rage? Run-of-the-mill panic attack? Prelude to a flashback? His head was too full of misfiring thoughts and impulses to figure it out. He needed to… he needed to destroy something. The business card, the man who was once Bertolt, himself, he didn’t care. He just needed to tear something apart before his brain rattled right out his skull. He just— he needed his weighted blanket, but it was back home.

“Pressure,” he gasped. Levi started rubbing his back hard and Oscar anchored himself to the sensation, the weight of Levi’s hands on his back. He pried his eyes open and they darted around for something familiar to latch onto, finally settling on his shoes. Old pair of sneakers, clean but well-broken in, blue color, black stripes, black laces, black soles. He counted each time his laces crossed themselves, then the number of eyelets.

“He’ll be fine,” Levi growled at someone. Oscar started at the sound and Levi stroked the back of his neck gently a few times while his other hand continued to press against his back. “Just back up so he can fucking breathe.”

Breathe. He must breathe. He filled his lungs carefully, holding the air for a moment before letting it loose again. Long, deep breaths. Slow. Steady. One, two, three. Levi kept rubbing his back and spoke to him quietly, a soft stream of Spanish interspersed with “Good, good, that’s better, yeah?”

Eventually, all the rapid shots his brain fired out faded away, leaving him feeling utterly empty-headed. His limbs and frame stopped their quivering and he allowed Levi to shift him into a more upright position. It took him a while to realize that Levi was still talking to him.

“Can you have caffeine?” Levi asked. He stared at him blankly. “Probably not a good idea,” Levi muttered, handing him a water bottle. He frowned at it, wondering where it’d come from, but uncapped it and drank in long gulps.

“Oscar,” Levi said, capturing what little attention and focus he had left. “Do you know where you are?”

He turned the question over in his head a few times before finally plucking the answer from its recesses. “Airport. Layover.” he mumbled. The words clattered like coins in his mouth, metallic and awkward.

Something squeezed him around the waist. He looked down and realized that Levi was holding him tightly against his side, his head resting on Levi’s shoulder and the armrest between the terminal seats shoved out of the way. Ah. That might explain why the old lady across the aisle was staring at them. Or maybe he just looked as trashed as he felt.  

Some of the recent events trickled back into his skull and he flushed with embarrassment as he realized that he’d wound up making a scene anyway. And he hadn’t even gotten the satisfaction of breaking Bertolt’s nose for his trouble. It’d been a while since he’d last had a breakdown in public. He was usually pretty good at staving off panic attacks and flashbacks or finding somewhere to suffer in private before an attack overtook him. But this… whatever just happened wasn’t quite like anything he’d ever felt before.

“What was that?” he asked aloud without really meaning to.

Levi snorted next to his ear. “You’re asking me? I don’t know.” Levi’s breath stirred his hair a little and he shivered, pushing against Levi to sit up on his own. Levi let him go, asking, “Do you want to try to eat?”

They had food? He suddenly recalled going to Starbucks. Coffee for him, chai tea latte for Levi. Got hungry in the line and bought sandwiches. There was a storm, so the layover was longer than expected. They’d just left Oscar’s mother’s house after spending Thanksgiving with her. Oscar. Özgür Gözübüyük.

He was Oscar.

Finally feeling properly settled again (but utterly exhausted), Oscar assessed his stomach and decided that he was ravenous and unlikely to throw up. He accepted the sandwich Levi held out to him and spread the wrapper out across his lap before devouring his food. Levi ate too, though Oscar could feel his watchful gaze resting on him constantly.

“Thanks,” Oscar told Levi.

“You’re the one that bought the sandwich,” Levi reminded him.

“No. I know.” He finished the last bite of his food, wiping his fingers off awkwardly on the plastic wrapper. “Thank you for… taking care of me.”

Levi’s eyes met his for a brief moment before darting away. “It’s not a big deal. You’re always taking care of me.” He raised his latte, obscuring his face as he sipped from it. “I’m glad I can return the favor.”

That was true. Levi liked to keep things even between them. Still, he couldn’t resist teasing him a little. “You’re glad I’m an anxious train wreck?”

“You know what I mean, shithead.”

* * *

 

Oscar slept on the plane ride home and managed to restore enough energy to not only drive them home, but also unpack his luggage. Once Levi went to sleep, Oscar called Alexis, intending to tell her about the strange incident. He needed to ask her opinion on what it might’ve been and how to deal with it better if it happened again. But when she answered the phone, something entirely different passed through his lips.

“Did I ever apologize?”

“Sorry, I don’t understand,” she said. “Apologize for what?”

“For **Trost**.” He swallowed. “I— Eren, was in charge of your **squad**. After Thomas got eaten… Mina died because of Eren’s impulsiveness. I… he led you right into a suicide run.”

Alexis listened to his rambling, waiting a moment after he stopped talking to see if he was truly done. “All right,” she said. “I accept your apology. But you should know I never blamed you. Him.”

He couldn’t quite believe that. “No?”

“No.” She sighed. It sounded like thunder rumbling through the connection. “ **We are rookies. Our chances are terrible anyway. I am glad to die fighting desperately instead of cowering in fear. You give us courage, Eren.** ”

The words made a spark shine bright in his mind, beaming out from its surrounding darkness.

_“ **You have to be more careful,”** Armin grouses, poking carefully at the steaming stub of what used to be his left arm. “ **That Titan nearly swallowed you. What if it’d bitten through your spine?** ” _

_“ **It’s fine,** ” Eren says dismissively, attempting to open his **gear** for maintenance with just one hand. “ **It’ll be done growing back in time to help with dinner.** ” He hopes so, anyway. If not, the **Captain** will be all snippy about him slacking on chores. _

_Armin sighs and digs his nails into the **gear** ’s seam to pop it open for him. “ **I’m not talking about just this. Sure, you can heal. But you can still die. We know that much for sure.** ” He meets Eren’s eyes over the **gear** , holding his gaze. Eren knows he is thinking of Bertolt, of how even a **Colossal Titan** is ultimately mortal. _

_He understands his concern, really, but they are at war. “ **I can’t be of any use if I’m too careful, Armin,** ” he points out. “ **If I die fighting the Titans, that’s all right with me. At this point, we can probably win without me, so long as Mikasa and the Captain are around.** ” _

_Armin shoots him a withering glance that makes him feel about five years old. “ **Eren. You can’t be replaced that easily. We need you for more than just Titan slaying.** ”_

_“ **Okay, fine, maybe if there’s some weird stuff that only a Titan can—** ”_

_“ **—You really don’t get it, do you?** ” _

_Eren looks up from his **gear** ’s innards at Armin’s half-amused, half-frustrated tone. “ **Get what?** ” _

_“ **You’re the heart of the war. You give everyone courage. Without you driving us, we wouldn’t be able to continue fighting the way we have been for long.** ”_

_Eren huffs in disbelief and more than a little embarrassment. ” **What, like Mikasa in Trost back in 850? She wouldn’t react like that anymore. She’d keep going.** ” _

_“ **I’m talking about everyone, Eren. Not just Mikasa** ,” Armin presses._

_“ **I doubt Captain or the Commander would give up that easily either. They’d come up with a new attack plan without me.”**_

_Armin brushes his hair out of his face impatiently. “ **Eren, they’ve invested everything in you. All their plans, all their hope. They wouldn’t give up, no, but…** ”_ _He examines Eren and stops, seeing that he will not be able to convince Eren right now. “ **Never mind. Just be careful, all right? People are depending on you.** ”_

Alexis’ voice broke him out from the scene. “Why are you apologizing all of a sudden anyway?” she asked. “What brought this on?”

Oscar took a deep breath and explained to her about the layover, Bertolt, and the strange combination of rage, panic, and confusion he’d been swept up in afterwards. She was amazed by his random encounter with Bertolt and had a few ideas about the attack, promising to call him back after she’d done some research and thought on it more.

When he hung up, he removed the business card from his pocket and flipped in his fingers a few times. Bertolt Hoover was Hassan Medjdoub now and worked at what appeared to be an aerospace company in France. He was tempted once again to throw the card away, tear it up, _burn_ it, but… he’d given his word. And it wasn’t likely he’d ever have to contact him anyway. What were the chances he’d run into Annie or Reiner? Of course, the likelihood of bumping into Levi at a Denny’s had been miniscule too, so anything was possible.

After several minutes of agonizing, internal debate, he decided to be nice and email this Hassan Medjdoub a link to the Past Life Facebook, like he’d done for Alexis. Eren Yaeger’s specter wasn’t very happy with this decision, but the idea of cultivating another contact that could potentially help him find Mikasa and Armin softened the blow.

He wouldn’t email him tonight though. It’d been a long, strange day. Right now, all he wanted to do was swallow his pills and sleep. After all, the winter season was fast approaching. He’d need all his strength to weather that storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave in and made a twitter account for all my fic complaining. Follow me if you'd like to see me complaining about writing fic and daily toils. https://twitter.com/zhe1dang3 And, of course, you can always follow my tumblr for a daily dose of Attack on Titan content on your dash. http://zhedang.tumblr.com/ All right, shameless self-promotion done. I'll see you guys next chapter!
> 
> (I know there are about a billion typos/other errors in this chapter, but I am tired and cannot see them anymore after staring at the same words over and over so much. If you spot any glaring mistakes, I'd appreciate it if you let me know.)


	4. PART TWO (3/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Levi has a surprisingly in-depth knowledge of Lady Gaga lyrics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Another long, long chapter. But finally Part Two is done. After this, all that's left is Part Three (projected at 2 chapters long) and then a brief epilogue.
> 
> I won't lie to you good people-- I don't have time to proofread, especially when the chapters are this long. So if you notice a grievous error (of which I'm sure there's many) let me know and I'll correct it when I get a chance.

**PART TWO (3/3)  
**

Oscar had loved Christmas like any other kid who celebrated did when he was younger. But for years now, it’d been the most miserable time of the year for him and his family. Lisa had spent these weeks deeply unconscious, only rarely rousing long enough to speak or smile dimly at them, before finally passing away at December’s end. Since then, neither Oscar nor his mother or step-father had been much inclined to celebrate Christmas. Between the cold, nasty weather, the constant reminder of his loss, and the relentless good cheer pouring out of everyone else, Oscar woke up each day feeling like shit.

“You’re not going to go jogging?” Levi asked.

“Have you looked out the window? It’s _freezing_.”

Levi glanced outside at the snow piling along the boundaries of the sidewalk. “Didn’t stop you yesterday.”

Oscar slurped his coffee miserably. He wanted to go back to bed. As it was, he only had a few minutes left of self-pity before he absolutely must start getting ready for work. “I miss the sun,” he groaned, pulling his blanket-turned-shroud tighter around him with his free hand.

“What are you, a plant?”

Levi liked the winter. He said all the layers and bulky clothing made passing a little easier. Oscar had to take his word for it. Besides the virtues of cold temperatures, Levi liked to watch the snow falling, sometimes staring out the window with a mug in hand for extended periods of time. “It makes everything look nice,” he said defensively when Oscar called him a house cat.

“I think you mean it makes everything look dead.”

“You seriously need to get some fucking sunshine before you wither away.”

It was a catch-22 sort of situation. Jogging helped with his depression because it gave him a routine to adhere to and an opportunity to be outdoors. Not to mention all the beneficial physiological and psychological effects of exercise. He needed that extra boost in the winter more than any other season. But winter sapped all his motivation, leaving him an empty husk. What little energy he had was funneled into getting to class or work each day—there was nothing left for other activities. He needed to jog to feel better. He needed to feel better to jog. Catch-22.

He’d tried all sorts of solutions in the previous years. Going to the gym and running on a treadmill was no good. Fluorescent lights were a poor replacement for sunlight and packing his stuff and driving to the gym required more motivation than he had. Alexis suggested he buy a light therapy lamp. He’d tried it a couple years back, but sitting in front of the lamp only reminded him that he was trapped indoors by his own sick mind. Both Oscar and Eren Yaeger’s ghost balked at feeling caged.

At the very least, winter was easier to deal with when he wasn’t alone. Moping around the tiny apartment all day was a lot harder when Levi seemed to be in every corner of it. The presence of another person forced him to make an effort to appear all right. Sometimes that lie became the truth, even if only briefly. And while Levi didn’t criticize Oscar for his depressive behavior, he didn’t indulge him when he began wallowing in it either.

“Get up,” Levi said, shaking his shoulder.

Oscar curled up tighter in bed in protest. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.”

“You need to take your medication first.”

“They don’t help anyway,” Oscar mumbled, his eyes still squeezed shut. “What’s the point?”

Levi wouldn’t yield though. His fingers clenched tighter around his shoulder. “Oscar. Take your pills. You’ll feel shittier tomorrow if you don’t.”

Oscar knew this was true, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It wouldn’t kill him to miss a dose. He’d done it before. Still, Levi clearly wouldn’t let him go to sleep until he took the pills. He opened his eyes to stare up at Levi’s worried face hopefully. “Will you bring them to me?”

“No. Get up. You need to brush your teeth too. Your breath is rank.”

Grumbling, Oscar dragged himself out of bed to swallow his pills and clean his teeth. He tried to summon the necessary emotion to be pissed at Levi for ordering him around, but he had to admit that Levi’s pushing kept him from sliding into bad habits. Last winter, he’d once gone three nights without brushing his teeth before his disgust finally overrode his apathy.

Chloe and Oscar’s mother were the same; they never pushed him until he reached crisis levels of illness. They were endlessly supportive, but sometimes Oscar suspected that they worried he’d… shatter or something if they applied any pressure. Levi lacked any such qualms. In this way, he was exactly like the **Captain**. **Captain** Levi saw the value in applying pressure to a person in order to ensure their survival, even when others might call him cruel for it.

Oscar supposed that was what people called tough love.

* * *

 

Oscar explained to Levi why he hadn’t celebrated Christmas in years, how it was too sad and didn’t feel right without Lisa anyway. Levi hadn’t planned to celebrate that year either, preferring to save his money. Besides, he said, his favorite part of Christmas was _Las Posadas_. Only one church in the area organized a _Posada_ each year and that was his parents’.

“I doubt they’re participating this year, but I don’t want to run into them,” he finished, frowning.

While Levi never discussed his parents in detail, he did occasionally reference them now. It was an improvement from the previous no-fly zone surrounding the topic, but Oscar still hesitated to pry for details. As more time went by, it mattered less and less anyway. Levi was here now, after all, and appeared to have zero interest in allowing them back into his life. So, instead Oscar asked, “What’s _Las Posadas_?”

They did attend midnight mass on Christmas Eve. Oscar planned to just wait in the car, but Levi wouldn’t have it. “You can’t sit out here, it’s too cold.”

“I’m not dressed for mass,” Oscar argued. “Especially not a special one.”

Levi’s eyes flicked from his legs to his chest before settling back on his face. “You’re fine. Nobody fucking cares. C’mon, it’ll be in English. You can follow along properly for once.”

A gust of wind blew through Levi’s open car door. Oscar shivered and, reluctantly, got out of the car.

It’d been a while since he’d been in a public place that wasn’t work or the grocery store. The church was packed with a different blend of people than he was used to seeing there. Levi and Oscar squeezed into a pew at the very back alongside a white family. The crowd made Oscar feel a little anxious, but he concentrated on the organ’s deep, reverberating music until he got his heart beating regularly again.

He could see the appeal of religion. It had a very tangible sense of community attached to it and the comfort of knowing how you were meant to live your life. Oscar didn’t think he would ever believe in an omnipotent god though. And all the muddle about death and afterlife… Eren died and hadn’t experienced any sort of afterlife. Unless this was supposed to be the afterlife. But no, Oscar couldn’t believe that. This, _Oscar_ , was every bit as real and important as Eren Yaeger. His life wasn’t… an afterthought or epilogue.

Did that mean that reincarnation was real though? He didn’t know much about it—his bare scraps of knowledge mostly came from when he’d hunted desperately online for the Past Life Facebook— but wasn’t the point of reincarnation to continually be reborn until you achieved enlightenment? He wondered if going from Eren Yaeger to Özgür Gözübüyük was considered a step up or down on the ladder to nirvana. He’d like to consider it a step up, but, well, he was biased.

A wild, horrific thought occurred to him. Didn’t some religions say you could reborn as animals? What if that was true? Would he recognize someone from Eren’s life if they were a dog or a cow?

Levi shifted beside him so that his arm pressed against Oscar’s; he startled slightly, glancing down at Levi in surprise.

“Do you need to go?” Levi mouthed.

Oscar shook his head, thumbing through the program to figure out where they were in mass. Levi pointed subtly to the correct section before turning to face front again. He kept his arm against Oscar’s, standing a little too close for propriety, though nobody would think twice with the pew so packed. Oscar could smell his shampoo.

He breathed deeply, closed his eyes for just a moment, and let the priest’s droning voice wash over him and carry him away.

* * *

 

With the Christmas season over, the rest of winter was marginally more bearable. It helped that Oscar had things to look forward to. Chloe and Rob’s wedding was in February and before that there was Levi’s birthday in January. Of course, Levi refused to tell Oscar what he wanted for his birthday.

“I don’t want anything,” he insisted.

“Everybody wants something for their birthday.” But Levi just pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. “If you don’t at least give me an idea, I’m going to buy you something _really_ expensive,” Oscar threatened, half-joking and half-warning. A laptop was the first thing that jumped into mind. Oh, Levi would hate that. He’d probably stab him with that switchblade of his.

Levi huffed. “Fine, I’ll try to think of something.”

“And it better not be something cheap.”

In case Levi did try to wiggle his way out of a present, Oscar browsed online and compiled lists of possibilities. But he’d personally never been a fan of surprise presents himself, so he’d much rather that Levi just tell him what he wanted outright. He imagined that Levi would ask for a practical present—new work shoes or covering some of his college application fees. Something like that.

He was wrong. So wrong.

“There aren’t any good Mexican restaurants in town. It’s all Tex-Mex bullshit. But in the next town over, there’s this little hole in the wall that makes fucking delicious _cochinita pibil_.”

“For your birthday you want… pork?” he guessed. _Cochinita_ sounded like _cochon_ —he remembered that much French, at least.

Levi’s eyes were bright, almost wistful, his gestures expanding in range. “I haven’t eaten _cochinita pibil_ in years. It takes so long to make—if you’re going to make it right. Too much effort for only two people…” Levi trailed off when he spied the smile that spread over Oscar’s face. “What?”

“Nothing.” Levi probably wouldn’t like being told he was cute when he got excited about something. “Make sure you have Thursday night off. We’re going out.”

* * *

 

“Keep going—no, don’t you dare fucking turn, I told you this is the right street.”

“Yeah, but you also said you hadn’t been here since you were twelve.”

“Just go down another block.”

Oscar was beginning to suspect this place had gone out of business—it happened to local restaurants all the time—but finally Levi jabbed his finger against the window with triumph. “There.”

It really was a hole in the wall. Oscar never would’ve spotted it without Levi. He peered through the window at the small, unlit sign Levi was pointing at. “Are they open?”

“Below the sign,” Levi said, already unbuckling his seat belt. Oscar let his gaze drop to the placard hanging just beneath the sign: _ABIERTO_. Well, okay then.

Oscar parked and they hurried inside—Oscar rushing because a cold, stiff breeze was whipping down the sidewalk and Levi rushing because he apparently hadn’t eaten anything in a thousand years. It was more of a café than a restaurant, with seating for only perhaps thirty people if they really squeezed. It smelled good though and Oscar’s stomach became to whine.

A college age server approached them almost immediately, menus in hand. She cast an assessing glance over Levi and then Oscar before asking “Just two?” They both nodded. “All right,” she said and led them over to one of the open tables, tossing a Spanish comment out to Levi. He replied and they chatted a bit as Oscar and Levi took their seats. After she took their drink orders and left, Oscar opened his menu.

It was almost exclusively in Spanish, with only a handful of English translation scattered about in tiny print under headings. If a font could look begrudging, then whoever designed the menu had managed to find the most begrudging font in existence.

“Want me to read to you?” Levi asked.

Oscar set the menu aside. “Just order for me. You know what I like.”  

One corner of Levi’s mouth twitched upward, but he stifled it and busied himself with the menu. “No beans for you then. You’d fart all night.”

Oscar propped his chin up on one hand, watching Levi as he read. There was a sort of… glow to him. It wasn’t a flush from the cold weather. It was more like… someone had placed a candle just beneath his skin. Levi, absorbed as he was with the menu, didn’t notice his observation for a while. But eventually he glanced over the top of the menu to say something and caught Oscar staring. “What?”

“You’re in a good mood. A really good mood.”

Levi scoffed, but he shifted backwards in his seat uncomfortably. “Why shouldn’t I be? It’s my birthday and you’re—” He stopped, hesitating for the barest moment before continuing. “You’re taking me out to eat. Can’t a guy be in a good mood once in a while?”

Oscar had to stifle his own grin at Levi’s defensive response. He sounded like the **Captain**. He remembered one time they’d been riding and Connie cracked a truly unfunny, bad joke. He couldn’t recall what it was about now—something to do with **Commander** Smith’s hair or maybe his eyebrows. The rest of the squad just groaned, but the **Captain** laughed a full-belly laugh, so loudly and uncontrolled that he nearly fell out of his saddle. It’d been a long day and they thought maybe battle fatigue had finally addled his brain. When Mikasa asked the **Captain** if he was okay, he sat upright again and said, “ **Can’t a man fucking laugh once in a while?** ”

Levi’s good moods weren’t as rare as the **Captain’s** , but they were still scarce and usually short-lived. He hoped this one lasted for at least the rest of the night.

“And what about you?” Levi asked. “Tonight you’re all… smile-y.”

Oscar chuckled and smiled broadly. “Should I stop?”

Levi’s eyes widened infinitesimally before darting back to the menu. “No.” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “You’ve been all gloom and doom lately, so it’s a nice change.”

“Sorry. I know I’m not very good company in the winter.” Usually the only person who had to put up with him when he hit his winter rock bottom was his mother. At least she was already miserable too.

Levi closed the menu and caught his gaze, suddenly oddly sincere. “You’re always good company.”

His tone was heavy. Not in the somber sense, but laden with a meaning beyond just the words themselves. Before Oscar could start to dissect it though, the server reappeared.

“Ready to order?” she asked, already pulling a notepad and pen from the pocket of her waist apron.

Levi answered her with “Yeah,” and then a brief flurry of Spanish. She nodded, took up their menus, and then made a comment to Levi. Whatever she said wasn’t anything to do with food; her tone was too teasing for it to restaurant business. Levi scowled at her and she giggled before walking away, casting a parting glance and grin at Oscar.

“What was that about?” Oscar asked.

Levi was unnecessarily focused on drinking his water, as though sipping a straw was a task that required his complete attention. He shrugged.

“Oh, c’mon.”

Levi could not be moved though. Eventually, Levi changed the subject, asking about Oscar’s work. Oscar could go on for hours about work given a remotely sympathetic ear and Levi knew it. Oscar knew that Levi knew it, but he allowed the switch anyway. It was Levi’s birthday, after all. Not to mention one of the new employees had done something profoundly idiotic with some of the blood samples that very day.

Before Oscar knew it, the waitress returned with their food and he was presented with some sort of fish covered in a thin red sauce, olives, and capers. There was roasted potatoes and white rice on the side. “So, what’s this?”

Levi was already digging into his dish, but he swallowed down his bite. “ _Huachinango a la Veracruzana_.”

“…And what’s that?”

“Veracruz style…” Levi trailed off, waggling his fork between his fingers as he thought. “I forget the fish’s English name. Red something?”

“Grouper? Snapper?”

“That’s it. Snapper,” he snorted. “Fucking terrible name for a fish. Anyway, you usually cook the whole fish, head and all, but since it’s a single serving, you get a filet. Or maybe they just think people don’t want a gross, dead fish glaring up at them from the plate.”

Oscar cut into the fish—very moist and flaky— and ate a bite. A myriad of rich flavors burst over his tongue. “Mm!” he exclaimed. “It’s good.”

Levi shot him a glance like, _Of course it’s fucking good_ , but didn’t say anything, too busy devouring his _cochinita pibil_. The pork didn’t look nearly as lovely as his fish, so Oscar rather thought he’d gotten the better end of the deal. Then again, presentation wasn’t the same thing as taste and Levi had been craving that particular dish pretty badly. “Can I try some of yours?”

Levi pushed his plate closer to Oscar. As Oscar speared a forkful of the pork, Levi reached across the table and took a piece of his fish. “They cook it well here, but I like it better when the broth isn’t so thin,” he commented, swallowing the fish.

Oscar tried the pork. It was almost ridiculously tender and incredibly flavorful. He was used to barbeque flavors for pork, and while the _cochinita pibil_ ’s taste was similar, there was something distinctly different that he couldn’t quite pin down. Something… citrus-y? “Yours is nice, but I like mine better.”

“That’s because I picked it for you,” Levi said matter-of-factly.

That was true, Oscar supposed. Levi really did know what he liked, after all. He certainly watched Oscar cook and grocery shopped with him enough to know. He ate some more of the red snapper and sampled the rice and potatoes. “So, eighteen. Do you feel older?”

Levi raised an eyebrow. “Same as always.” He dragged his plate back towards him and stabbed a hunk of pork. “Ancient.”

Levi ate faster than Oscar—mostly because Oscar tended to talk a lot more during meals— so he finished long before him. Rather than take over the conversation so Oscar could catch up, he let Oscar keep dominating the conversation. If anything, he spoke even less, instead leaning back in his seat and watching Oscar eat. By the time Oscar was nearly done, Levi had devolved to monosyllabic responses.

“Are you okay?” Oscar asked finally. He didn’t look upset or anything. He just seemed sort of… vacant. Oscar didn’t know exactly when Levi stopped listening, but it was apparent that he currently wasn’t hearing a single word of what he said.

“Hm?”

“You’re staring.”

Levi blinked and a guilty flush rose up to his cheeks, visible even under the restaurant’s dim lighting. He quickly schooled his expression, eyes finally lifting away from Oscar and landed on the wall over his shoulder instead. “I—”

But he clamped his mouth shut when the waitress approached them, leather checkbook in hand. She laid it on the table and asked, “Is there anything else I can get for you two?”

Oscar glanced at Levi; he shook his head. “No, we’re fine. Thank you,” Oscar told her.

“All right. There’s no rush on the bill. You enjoy the rest of your evening.” She grinned and thew a quick comment out to Levi. Levi visibly perked up and replied, his answer beginning with a short stammer before smoothing. She inclined her head in an approximation of a nod before walking away.

Oscar quickly finished off the rest of his food before checking the receipt and digging into his pocket for his wallet. Levi nudged Oscar under the table with his foot. “Hey.”

“What?”

“Leave her a nice tip.”

“I was planning to.” Oscar pulled the correct card out and looked up at Levi. He wasn’t quite grinning, but the happy glow was in full force again— possibly even brighter than before. “Any particular reason why?”

Levi leaned deep into his seat, looking—for the moment, at least—utterly content. “She called me _señor_. I’ve been sir’d before, but never _señor_ ’d.”

“Ah,” Oscar murmured, adding an extra five dollars to his intended tip. Anything that managed to please Levi that much was well-worth rewarding.

* * *

 

Compared to the way December had inched along, January seemed to spin by completely out of control. Oscar had just barely managed to get a proper grip on things when February suddenly slammed into place and it was Chloe and Rob’s wedding day.

Levi hadn’t come to the rehearsal dinner the night before, opting to hang out at the hotel instead. So when they turned on the street, he goggled a little.

“What do Chloe’s parents _do_?” Levi asked as Oscar parked in a neighbor’s driveway. Most of the nearby neighbors were invited to the wedding and had volunteered their space for parking. It was still early though. Soon, the street would be clogged with cars, despite the neighborhood’s generosity

“Her mom is an anesthesiologist. Fantastic pay, but long hours and a lot of stress.” Oscar had only met Mrs. Novak once before since her work schedule was so demanding. She seemed nice, but harried. “Chloe’s dad stays at home— does all the chores and errands, makes sure Mrs. Novak eats actual food. Oh, and he competes in wheelchair basketball too.”

Levi opened one of the back doors and retrieved the massive, wrapped wedding gift. “He’s in a wheelchair?”

“Only some of the time. He lost one of his legs to cancer when he was a teenager. He’s got this robotic prosthetic, loves to show it off. Don’t be surprised if he asks if you want to see it.” He glanced at Levi and restrained a smile. Levi’s eyes barely cleared the top of the box. “You got that?”

“Yeah. Go do your bridesmaids— bride’s people, whatever— stuff. Just tell me where I can put this thing down.”

Oscar pointed towards the Novaks’ garage. “There should be a big table set up somewhere over there for all the gifts. You sure you’re gonna be all right on your own for a while?” Levi knew exactly three people at this wedding and all three of them were going to be _pretty_ busy with the ceremony.

“Oscar, I’ve been to about fifteen weddings. I can handle myself.”

So Oscar went to go find the bridesmaids. Or, as Levi’s called them, the bride’s people. There were five of them, only two of which were “maids.” Besides Oscar, there was another guy, Maurice, and JJ, who was somewhere way outside the gender binary. Chloe’s sister, Cassidy, and her co-worker Angelica rounded out the group. The “groomsmen” were a mixed bag too. The ring bearer and flower girl were Chloe’s great-uncle and great-aunt and the officiant was the trumpeter from Rob’s punk jazz band. Oscar didn’t even know punk jazz existed until the rehearsal yesterday.

It was going to be a bit of an offbeat wedding.

Oscar had never been a bridesmaid before, but he felt like he’d seen 27 Dresses enough times to pull it off. Fortunately, Chloe wasn’t a very fussy bride. He’d driven out a few months ago to help with picking the dress, offered his opinion on decorations and catering and other details, and before the rehearsal dinner last night he’d assisted with dying Chloe’s hair magenta and gold. Other than that, he was mostly there for moral support.

When he found the bride’s people, everyone was rushing about in a panic. Maurice was putting the final touches on Chloe’s hair as he cast worried glances at the clock, while the other three searched the room. Cassidy saw Oscar come in and shouted, “Do you remember where we put Chloe’s shoes?”

All five faces turned to him hopefully, expressions falling as he admitted, “Uh… no.”

He joined the hunt, helping JJ and Angelica search the rooms downstairs. By the time Angelica located the shoe box—lurking unseen beneath the living room coffee table— JJ spotted the wedding photographer approaching and called out a warning. Everyone reassembled upstairs for the photographer to snap preparation pictures while Chloe, Cassidy, Angelica, and Maurice finished getting ready. Oscar hung back with JJ, moving out of the photographer’s way and fetching makeup bags and other essentials.  

“Oh my god,” Chloe groaned as Cassidy helped her fix the veil into her hair with bobby pins. “The ceremony was supposed to start three minutes ago.”

“It’ll be fine, dear. Smile,” the photographer said. Despite her nerves, Chloe beamed and the camera clicked loudly. “There’s no such thing as an on-time wedding. Everyone will wait for as long as it takes for you to be perfectly ready.”

“Oscar, will you check outside?” Chloe asked.

Oscar peeked through the window’s shades at the people congregating in the backyard down below. He spotted what he thought was the back of Levi’s head in the fifth row of chairs. “Pretty much everyone is sitting down.”

“ _Oh my god._ ”

With the bride and all the bride’s people finally completely dressed and made up, they rushed through some group photos before lining up for the aisle walk. As they waited for the signal, Oscar’s stomach began to twist and flutter as though it was his own wedding. Wait. No. It wasn’t just his stomach. He felt dizzy and hot too in a way that couldn’t be blamed on the suit he was wearing. This wasn’t normal nerves.  

The music began (courtesy of Rob’s band’s pianist) and Angelica began heading outside and down the aisle first. Oscar, fourth in line, tried to settle his breathing, ignore the chest pains, and push away the unfounded terror as he waited his turn. He was not going to make a scene in the middle of Chloe and Rob’s wedding. No fucking way.

Behind him, Cassidy poked his back gently. His turn. He moved forward, concentrating on maintaining a steady, sedate pace instead of rushing and ruining the timing. For Chloe and Rob’s ceremony, the bride’s people and groom’s people were walking down the aisle in pairs before splitting off to each side at the end. That was the idea at least, so long as Oscar didn’t botch the program.

He slowed his steps a fraction to meet his partner at the aisle’s entrance. The groom’s person— a fellow named Chao that was even taller than Oscar—flashed a fast grin at Oscar before they looped arms like they’d practiced at rehearsal.

“Okay?” Chao muttered beside him, barely moving his lips.

Damn. Was he that obvious? He moved his head just enough to convey a nod, keeping his strides even with Chao’s until they broke apart. Oscar took up his position in the line, angled to face both the officiant and the seated people. He closed his eyes for a moment, accepting that this attack was happening and waiting for it to run its course. _It’s temporary,_ he reminded himself. _I feel like I’m dying, but I’m not. It’ll end soon. Just keep breathing._

Mercifully, the panic was short lived. It washed away, leaving him tired and weak in the knees, but okay. He felt Cassidy settle in place beside him and knew that Chloe would be next. He opened his eyes to watch the bride and groom come down and instead fell into direct eye contact with Levi. Levi was frowning, concerned. Fuck. He must’ve been really obvious if Levi could tell he was in bad shape from that distance. Well, at least no one else seemed to be paying him any mind. Everyone was focused on Chloe and Rob as they descended the aisle. Oscar shot Levi a reassuring smile and something in Levi’s face relaxed—his brow, or maybe his mouth. Levi turned away first to watch the bride and groom. Oscar lingered on Levi for a few heartbeats longer before shifting his attention to Chloe and Rob just in time to see them stop before the officiant.

The ceremony began.

Oscar had been doubtful about an outdoor wedding in February, but the weather was gorgeous and the temperature tolerable. If anything, the cool air was a relief against his panic-flushed skin. The ceremony zoomed by in a happy blur and all Oscar was left with was the image of Chloe and Rob both smiling and crying at once, their faces beautiful and brilliant. And then more pictures—so many pictures—and suddenly Oscar was released from all wedding duties and food was happening.

Levi slipped into the food line beside him. “You were totally crying up there.” He considered what he’d said and quickly amended his statement. “During the ceremony, I mean. Not before.”

“Was I?” Oscar asked. He hadn’t noticed, but he wouldn’t be surprised. It was an overwhelming day—happy, but overwhelming.

“I’m sure the photographer got a shot. At least half of the wedding party was crying.”

“I know I was crying,” Mr. Novak said from just in front of them. “Complete, weepy mess, just like a baby.”

“You cried at graduation too,” Oscar said, remembering. He’d caught a glimpse of Mr. Novak’s face in the crowd when Chloe found him for one last hug.

“It’s ‘cause you kids grow up too fast. One day you’re pooping your diaper and then all of a sudden you’re getting married.” He thumped Oscar soundly on the back. “Life is too short, so you better enjoy yourself.” He grinned down at Levi. “I don’t recognize this face. Who’s your date, Oscar?” he asked, teasing.

Oscar knew from experience that there was no use protesting. Mr. Novak was a true dad, filled to bursting with corny jokes and a dozen ways to embarrass everyone he encountered. He laid one hand on Levi’s shoulder, drawing him forward gently. “This is my friend, Levi. Levi, this is Bob Novak, Chloe’s dad.”

“Nice to meet you,” Levi said dutifully.

Mr. Novak grasped Levi’s hand firmly in one of his massive paws. “Nice to meetcha.” His grin somehow widened even further. “Say, Levi, have you ever seen a real life cyborg?”

Levi shot Oscar a glance, mouth taut with his valiant effort to keep a straight face. “No, can’t say I have.”

The food line soon became congested as seemingly every child at the wedding (and a few curious adults) congregated to oh and ah over Mr. Novak’s leg. Levi thanked Mr. Novak and squeezed out of the crowd just in time to join Oscar at the head of the line. They allowed the catering staff to pile food on their plates and then Levi led Oscar to the table he’d claimed while Oscar had been tied up in photo shoots. Before long, some college acquaintances spotted Oscar, took up the rest of the seats, and regaled him with tales of their jobs, graduate research, and relationships. To his relief, nobody brought up Oscar’s abrupt disappearance from graduate school or asked after his job. It paid well enough, but it was a little embarrassing to still be in an entry level job when you graduated half a decade ago.

When they learned Levi was finishing high school, the conversation shifted from post-college life to advice on what you _had_ to do your freshmen year of college— advice which ranged from “Get laid as much as possible, getting laid will never be easier than in undergrad,” to “If you don’t join clubs and network with professors as soon as possible, you’ll regret it forever. Don’t be that guy trying to beef up your resume in senior year. Don’t be me.”

Chloe was circulating from table to table, greeting the guests. When she reached their table, she thanked everyone for coming, kissed Oscar on the cheek, and stole Levi away. Oscar watched from the corner of his eye as they talked. It was the first time they’d ever spoken in person, though from what he knew they spoke on the phone fairly regularly. Levi held himself a little awkwardly, though slowly his frame relaxed into a more natural stance. Oscar turned away.

When Levi returned to the table, it was time for a toast and cake. His stomach was a bit too full for cake to be advisable, but Oscar got in line away. The sugar would be a good pick-me-up. Sure enough, when the band started playing, he’d found his second wind. Chloe and Rob had their first dance, whirling around the floor gleefully. When the first song ended and the second began, the patio turned dance floor steadily filled with people.

Oscar assessed his condition, trying to determine whether he’d be able to handle the crowd. He felt decent enough and it’d been a long time since he’d gotten to dance. So he merged into the jubilant mass, starting off alone before quickly swapping through a series of partners and poorly coordinated group dancing.

It was good to dance. He’d been able to pick up his jogging routine again in the last few weeks, but dancing was a unique sort of exercise. The music reverberated deep in his chest and it seemed as though he could feel other people’s emotions as surely as the ground beneath his feet. When he danced, the sensations filled him and his problems disappeared somewhere far, far away.         

He didn’t know how much time passed—five songs? Ten? But Oscar looked out and spotted Levi standing at the edge of the dance floor— watching— and worked his way over to him. “Dance with me,” he invited, shouting a little to be heard over the music.

For a moment, Levi looked as though he might be considering it. But then he shook his head. “I don’t dance.”

Oscar chuckled. “Okay, Corbin Bleu.” Levi stared at him blankly. “Wait, you’ve never seen High School Musical?”

“Do I look like someone who’s seen High School Musical?”

“ _Everybody_ has to see High School Musical. It’s, like, a requirement.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”

“We’re watching it after we get back,” Oscar declared. “I think it’s still on Netflix. Wait, but that song was in the second one. We’ll have to watch them both. We can skip the third though, I never liked that one.” Levi didn’t say anything, but he’d surely protest when the time arrived. A token protest only. He’d yet to turn down anything Oscar wanted to watch with him, but he did almost always argue for something else. Oscar couldn’t watch most of Levi’s preferred shows though.

“You sure you don’t want to dance? C’mon, you’ve got to be better than that guy,” Oscar said, pointing discreetly to someone doing a very vigorous jig. To his credit, he looked like he was having fun and that was the entire point.

“I’m sure.”

Oscar shrugged, concealing his disappointment. “Suit yourself.” He merged back in with the crowd, quickly finding a new partner. The first two times he glanced back to Levi’s spot, he was still there, tracking Oscar through the crowd. By the third glance, he was gone.

Eventually, the band worn themselves out and they retired for the night, their music replaced by a playlist for everyone still wanting to dance. Oscar was tired again—exhausted, really—and figured it was probably time to bow out too. Besides, Levi was probably ready to go as well.

He left the dance floor and moved slowly through the crowds, stopping occasionally for a quick chat with someone. It was dark despite the lights and fire pits, but Chloe was easy enough to spot in her brilliant white dress. He let her know he was leaving and congratulated her one final time before beginning the more difficult search for Levi.

When Oscar finally found Levi, he was sitting at a table with two other guys, somehow managing to sing along with the music playing while laughing into a plastic flute glass. One of the guys looked like he might be one of Chloe’s younger cousins, but Oscar had no idea who the other might be. All three of them looked tipsy and edging steadily into drunken territory.

Levi spied him and leaned backwards in his chair; Oscar stepped forward to put his hand on the back of Levi's seat so he wouldn't topple over. “Oscar!" Levi said, craning his neck to look at him. "Tell him he’s wrong.”

“About what?” Oscar counted the empty flutes and cups scattered across the table. It was a pretty impressive number, considering that the bar was _supposed_ to be carding people. None of them looked drinking age.

Levi pointed a finger accusingly at Possibly Chloe’s Cousin. “He thinks Lady Gaga hit her head on the dance floor.”

Oscar was way too sober to follow this. “What?”

“Telephone! The lyrics. He says it’s ‘I hit my head kinda hard on the dance floor.’”

That made more sense. “Pretty sure it’s ‘I left my head and my heart on the dance floor.’”

“Told you.” Levi sang the stanza in question. With his inhibitions out the window, his voice was high and unmistakably feminine. Oscar glanced at the other two guys, but they either didn’t notice, didn’t think anything of it, or didn’t care.

“Ah, what does he know?” Probably Not Chloe’s Cousin said, which—for some reason— set the three of them snickering.

“How much did you drink?” Oscar asked.

Levi knocked an empty glass over with a flick of his fingers. “Not enough. Some of this was water.”

“Water? Good.”

Levi peered up at him suspiciously. “You’re not going to get all… all responsible on me?”

Oscar snorted. He certainly hadn’t waited for his twenty-first birthday to drink. He wasn’t supposed to drink with his medications, so at least one of them should get to be sloshed. Levi apparently knew his limits, so that was good enough for Oscar. “Are you ready to go?”

Levi stood up, a bit unsteady on his feet. He grabbed Oscar by the wrist to find his balance. With his free hand, he offered the two guys a wave that they returned enthusiastically. Then he followed Oscar into the crowd, hand slipping down to twine his fingers between Oscar’s. Oscar navigated them through the swaying people, Levi trailing him and singing a slightly slurred but otherwise quite good rendition of Paparazzi under his breath.

Oscar caught eyes with Chloe, who was talking to some of Rob’s relatives, and waved at her so she’d know they were heading out. Chloe nodded in acknowledgement, looking a touch amused when she spied Levi leaning against him.

Levi plodded along after Oscar, holding his hand until they found the car (thankfully not blocked in by anyone else’s) and he was forced to relinquish Oscar so he could get the keys. Once the door opened, Levi sank into the passenger seat with a loud, pleased sigh and fumbled with his seat belt.

“Did you have fun?” Oscar asked, trying not to laugh at how tipsy Levi was.

Levi hummed a few bars of a tune Oscar couldn’t recognize. “Chloe and Rob looked really happy.”

Oscar checked that Levi had actually succeeded at buckling himself in before starting the car. He placed one hand behind Levi’s headrest as he backed the car out. “Yeah, they did.”

“Someday, I…” Levi paused and licked his lips, face flushed from the drinking. “Oscar, I want to be that happy someday.”

Oscar had been about to shift gear, but he paused at Levi’s somber statement. He glanced over at him. Levi was twisted sideways in his seat to face Oscar, hair mussed and sticking up in the back. He’d have to get a haircut soon, unless he was planning to grow it out a little. Oscar reached out to smooth his hair down, but caught himself just in time. Levi watched him intently, but didn’t react to Oscar’s aborted motion. His brown eyes seemed to glow in the dark.

Oscar turned away and placed both hands firmly on the steering wheel. “That’d be nice,” he sighed. “I’d like that too, Levi.”

* * *

 

  
Like it did every year, spring finally arrived. Oscar felt like a crushing weight had been lifted off his shoulders as the weather improved and the snow became a memory. He felt float-y and buoyant for the first few weeks before finally settling down again into normality. Or, at least, what had become normal for him in the last few years.

Alexis had told him flat out at the beginning that PTSD symptoms never truly went away. The best he could hope for was that they became so minimal that they rarely disrupted his everyday life. He’d gotten closer and closer to that ideal over time, but winter knocked him backwards every year thanks to the double dose of depression it blasted him with.

Sometimes, Oscar wondered if this—how he was right now—was the best it was ever going to get. If so, maybe that would be all right. He could deal.

But he hoped that one day, he could do more than deal. He thought often about what Levi had said in car and recognized the truth in it. He wanted to be happy. He just didn’t know what to do to make that happen.

He told Alexis about this, hoping she’d have advice. What she’d had to say wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t exactly useful either.

“There’s no single path to happiness, Oscar. If there was, wouldn’t everybody be racing down it already? Just try thinking about what makes you happy and figure out what you can do to work those things into your life more. I can help you, if you want.”

She gave him homework, something she rather seemed to enjoy. He was supposed to write out what happiness meant to him. “It doesn’t have to be an entire essay or anything,” she told him. “Think of it as a diary entry, just for yourself. And me, if you decide to let me read it.”

Oscar worked on it. At least, he did if “working on it” meant staring at a blank page for hours. Happiness. His mother was happy, most of the time anyway. But it didn’t seem like she had to do or have anything in particular to be happy. She just _was_. Chloe was happy, and Oscar knew that a lot of that originated from how much her family supported her and how fulfilled she felt with Rob and her work and studies. Oscar had support from his family, but he didn’t have anything that fulfilled him. What would fulfill him? A better job? He’d probably have to go back to graduate school to really move up and he wasn’t sure he could handle that stress. What else?

A thought rose to his mind: eliminating Eren Yaeger’s specter. The majority of the unhappiness he felt originated from his ghost haunting him, in one way or another. But short of blowing his own brains out, he didn’t see how he could ever escape him. His echo was always lurking in the shadows of his mind, hidden somewhere deep inside.

At a loss, he reported back to Alexis with not a page, not even an entire paragraph. Only a single sentence. “I would be happy if I was completely in charge of my own life again.” He waited for Alexis’ reaction, but she was just listening, waiting for him to say more. “But there’s nothing I can do to make that happen that I’m not already doing,” he added, frustrated. What Alexis said in response nagged at him long after their phone call ended.

“Are you sure?”

He thought so, but... he didn't _know_. What else was there?

Levi made much better progress on his homework. He was up late pretty much every night, working on it with an almost unnerving concentration. He came home, devoured dinner in a few quick bites, and then worked on his assignments without break until they were all finished. Oscar had always been pretty good about not procrastinating, but Levi was just unreal. He wasn’t a straight A student—his GPA seemed to hover low in the three range—but Oscar had never seen someone work for school so diligently.

The school year was coming to a close bit by bit though. And as the weeks passed, letters from colleges crept into their mail box.

* * *

 

Oscar was yawning and the computer screen was beginning to blur before his eyes, but he could not go to sleep. Not yet. He forced his tired eyes to focus on each name on the Past Life Facebook’s user directory list, searching out the latest additions. He usually didn’t wait up for Levi when he was working this late, not without a reason—but tonight, there was a reason: a large envelope addressed to Levi, bearing the emblem of a private university.

In the end, Levi applied to only four colleges. He’d already heard back from three. The local community college, no doubt the go-to safety school for every high senior in the city, had accepted him for the fall term, but couldn’t offer much financial aid. Levi’s reach school, one of the state’s more prestigious public universities, had rejected him. The average and very distant state university had also accepted him for the fall term, but was only offering partial funding. All that was left was this school, the only private one Levi had applied to.  

Judging by the size and weight of the envelope, it had to be an acceptance letter. The real question was how much aid were they offering? Private schools were ridiculously expensive, but they also tended to have better scholarship programs than public. Even if Levi didn’t get complete funding, he could probably work something out. But it would be so much easier, so much better, if just once everything would fall into place perfectly…

Oscar woke up to the computer being lifted off his lap. He startled, jerking upright; the laptop would have surely plunged to the floor if it wasn’t safe in Levi’s hands. He worried for a moment that it was still on the Past Life Facebook directory page, but then decided it probably didn’t matter. Levi wouldn’t be able to read the majority of it anyway.

“I didn’t get into the fall term,” Levi said.

Oscar blinked at him, brain still addled from its quick rush from complete sleep to knee-jerk panic. That couldn’t be right. What the hell kind of school sent out a rejection letter that big?

“But I got in for summer term,” Levi continued. “And it looks like they are giving me a full ride.” He set the laptop down on the coffee table and sank down on the couch next to Oscar, shoving a sheaf of papers at him. “Look. Are they? Am I reading it right?”

Oscar accepted the papers numbly, eyes automatically scanning down the page. With each line, his brain kicked further into gear and soon he was flipping through the papers rapidly. “It looks like—I mean, you’ll have to call the financial aid office to be sure this will cover absolutely _everything,_ like meal plans and lab fees and stuff, but—it looks like they are.”

Levi buried his face in his hands, shoulders quivering. Oscar thought he was crying and he laid one hand on his back. But then, a small noise escaped from between Levi’s fingers and Oscar realized he was laughing. “What—”

“—That fucker said I would _never_ —” Levi cut himself off with a harsh, almost mad laugh. For a few moments he only laughed, the occasional Spanish phrase emerging with his gasping breaths. Finally, he sat up again, leaning backwards against the couch, face flushed. He stared at Oscar with wide, blazing eyes. “I’m going to fucking college. A fucking good college. Some rich, white people are paying for me to go to their fancy school. _Me_.”

Those fiery eyes captured Oscar’s and he couldn’t look away. They were like the lights that glowed and gleamed in his dark mind— alluring and somehow dangerous. Like a porch light drawing in a moth, trapping it in endless spirals around the bulb’s false moon. He knew he must not lose himself to those eyes and yet… He clenched his hands into fists so that his nails bit into the palms. _Remember yourself, Oscar._

And from somewhere in his mind’s abyss, the voice of Eren Yaeger rose up. _Yes. Remember yourself. You know who you are. You remember._

He extinguished the voice in his head, drowning it beneath the details of his apartment, his schedule for tomorrow, everything that was here and now. He’d come so far. He could not, would not, lose his way now. “Congratulations,” he said. But that wasn’t nearly sufficient. _Congratulations_ made it sound like some minor door prize. He’d worked hard for this. “You deserve it, Levi.”

The tight, almost hysterical, grin on Levi’s face smoothed into a loose, genuine smile. “I do, don’t I?”

“If anybody deserves to catch a break, it’s you.” Oscar didn’t know anybody that drove themselves as hard as Levi.

And while the exact words didn’t form into his head like before, the memory—no, the _knowledge_ —pushed forward past his mental boundaries: the **Captain** had been the same way. Levi and the **Captain** were different, but they were also exactly the same.

* * *

 

At first, Levi hadn’t even wanted to walk for graduation. “It’s just a whole bunch of fees so you can listen to speeches and shake some guy’s hand.”

“It’s not—well, yeah, it kind of is. But it’s also the last thing you get to do as part of the student body—”

“—oh, I’m just bursting with school spirit—”

“—and you get to be with all your friends one more time—”

“—how many friends do you think I have there—”

“—and you really feel like you accomplished something.” Oscar waited a beat for Levi’s interruption, but it never came. So he continued. “You worked hard to finish high school. It’s important to you. You should cap off your achievement properly.” Levi still looked dubious, so he added, “And if you’re really worried about the fees, I was planning to pay them anyway. Nobody should have to pay their own graduation fees; it’s like buying your own birthday present.”

Levi, of course, didn’t want Oscar paying for his graduation, but Oscar wore him down eventually. By some miracle, he also convinced Levi to let him buy a new outfit for him. “It’s a special event, probably one of the most important in your life. Besides, you could use more dress clothes. Consider it your graduation present.”

“Isn’t my graduation the graduation present?” Levi muttered. But he joined Oscar at the mall on Saturday without too much grumbling. By now, Levi knew which stores were most likely to carry something he could actually wear, so they headed straight for the “dressiest” of the bunch. After many trials and tribulations, they managed to find a nice pair of slacks and an Oxford that Levi was satisfied with. All that was left was shoes. Levi’s small feet shunted him into the boy’s section, but he sent Oscar to men’s to scout and see if there were any shoes worth his time.

Oscar was snapping a picture of a pair with his phone when he heard someone, hesitatingly, call out, “Eren?” He jumped, dropping his phone, and swung his head in the direction of the voice. A woman stood in the store’s main aisle, staring at him.

She was much the same, still pretty and petite though far from delicate. Her hair was lighter—a lot lighter, so pale it gleamed even under the store’s dull fluorescent lighting—and freckles spotted her face, shoulders, and arms. The eyes that locked with his were a brilliant, almost shocking, green. For a moment, his limbs went numb. And then he was rushing towards her, phone forgotten on the ground. “Petra!”

She beamed, reaching out towards him and clasping his forearms as though to reassure herself that he was real. “Eren. Oh my god, _Eren_. You’re so old now!”

He laughed in disbelief. He was still only in his twenties, a couple years shy of thirty. Of course, Petra died when Eren was only fifteen. “How are you?” he asked, a wide smile cracking his face even as he examined her up and down. While Eren and Petra had never exactly been close—he hadn’t known her long enough for that—she’d tried to treat him as kindly as she could under the circumstances and he’d appreciated that. Eren had never been able to shake the guilt of her death from his shoulders, even though he knew the squad acted in accordance to their duties. Duty or no, it still felt like they’d died _for_ him. Many soldiers died for Eren over the years, but Petra and the rest of Levi’s old squad had been among the first.

“I’m— I’m fine. I’m just down here visiting my—sorry, I just can’t believe it.” She squeezed his arms and he gripped her arms in return. “You remember? Everything?”

“Yeah!” He laughed again and felt like he might never stop. The joy on Petra’s face was strangely contagious. “Obviously.”

“Sorry, that was a silly question,” Petra said, smile unmarred despite her self-deprecating words. “It’s just— I ran into Gunther a couple years ago, but he didn’t remember anything.”

That didn’t make sense. Gunter was only a year or two older than Petra, so he should’ve remembered ages ago. But before he could begin to really ponder the issue, a voice cut between them.

“I found shoes.”

His and Petra’s heads both swiveled at the same time. He felt Petra’s entire body freeze, her hands clinging tighter to him as though to hold fast to a fading dream. Levi stood a few feet away, shirt and slacks tossed over one arm and shoe box tucked under the other. He was frowning at Petra—not quite glaring, but with a definite distasteful pinch to his brow.

Oscar’s mouth kicked into gear before his brain did. “Shoes! Good. That’s good. Uh. Levi, this is…”

“Holly,” Petra said, voice soft and a little faint. “Holly Mason.”

“Holly. We, uh, used to work together.” He reached into his back pocket (Holly, reluctantly, relinquished his arms) and withdrew his wallet. He handed it to Levi. “Go ahead and check out.”

Levi took his wallet, but he didn’t move otherwise. His narrowed eyes remained on Holly, mouth about one twitch away from a scowl. Finally, Oscar added, “I’ll be along in a bit. Just give us a minute, okay?”

Levi shot a glance at him, but nodded stiffly and walked away. Once he was out of earshot, Holly rounded on Oscar. “That was the **Captain** ,” she hissed, tone somewhere between disbelief and accusation.

“I found him a year ago. He doesn’t remember anything, he’s too young,” he explained quickly.

Holly looked back to where Levi had been, but he was long out of sight. With her head turned, Oscar noticed a hearing aid in her ear’s canal. “He sure didn’t like me much, huh?”

“He’s probably just in a bad mood.” Clothes shopping always left Levi foul-tempered and low on patience, even when it went well. Oscar could understand why, even if he couldn’t actually relate. It had to be frustrating to try to reach a compromise between the image you wanted to present and the reality of your body.

Holly bit her lip. “It was almost as if…” She looked at Oscar thoughtfully, her eyes trailing up and down him slowly.

“What?”

“No, never mind.” She shook her head. “It’s probably just my imagination.”

Oscar retrieved his phone from the floor, checking it for cracks before putting it away. “Are you in a hurry? Come get lunch with us.” They only had about an hour before Oscar needed to get Levi back home in time for his dinner shift, but an hour was better than nothing.

Holly agreed eagerly and followed Oscar to the checkout desk where Levi was finishing up. He handed the wallet back to Oscar, wordlessly sizing Holly up again. Out of the corner of his eye, Oscar saw Holly smile at Levi nervously. “Where do you want to eat?” Oscar asked Levi. “Holly’s going to have lunch with us.”

Levi shrugged. “Let her pick.”

Holly had never been to the mall before, so they headed down to the food court so she could see all the options. “I live in Ontario. My parents moved down here a few years ago. This is my first time visiting them, so I don’t know where anything is,” she explained. “I only came out to the mall to get away from them for a while.”

“You’re trying to avoid your parents while visiting them for the first time in years?” Levi asked dubiously.

Holly laughed. “That sounds terrible, doesn’t it? I love them, really. They’re great. We just get along a lot better when we’re apart.”

“I understand entirely,” Oscar said. While he always got along well with his mother, he appreciated her a lot more when they weren’t living on top of each other. That’d been true before he got sick and become even truer afterward.

They settled on a restaurant and Levi insisted on paying not only for himself but Oscar too. Oscar didn’t put up a fight, knowing it’d make him feel more comfortable about receiving the clothes. They ate as they talked, carefully navigating around the fact that Oscar and Holly did not actually know each other. It made the conversation awkward—doubly so since Levi didn’t contribute much— but Oscar couldn’t bring himself to care. It was good to see Holly—to see Petra-- alive. Eren’s memory did not contain what Petra’s expression had been in that final moment before Eren left. He couldn’t remember what any of their faces had been like. But he remembered **Captain** Levi’s fingers tight around the kettle’s handle as he poured tea, knuckles bone white. His entire squad, dead in one fell swoop. All except Eren.

There was so much he—no, Eren— wanted to say to her, to ask her, but he couldn’t. Not with Levi there. He would definitely get her contact info so he could talk with her privately later. For now, it was enough to see her smiling, hear her easy laughter.

Eventually, Levi bussed their empty trays, announcing he was going to the restroom. He usually avoided public restrooms when he could, so Oscar figured it was his way of giving them a few minutes of privacy. Holly watched as Levi carried the stack of trays off to the trash can. Oscar watched her watching, wondering where he should start now that they were alone again.

In the end, she beat him to it.

“It was strange, but… Even though he was a lot older than me and I knew he probably had better chances of surviving than I did, I couldn’t help worrying about the **Captain**.” She glanced over at Oscar, mouth curved into a rueful shape. “Ridiculous, right? I should’ve been more worried about my own life.” Holly chuckled without any true mirth, then propped her chin up on one hand and sighed pensively. “But, maybe… Since he seemed so invincible and no one would worry, it felt like somebody should be keeping an eye on him. After all, no one is really invincible. We all died, didn’t we? One way or another.” She stared into Oscar’s eyes and he couldn’t help staring in return, going deeper into them until he found the spark lighting her eyes. And reflected in that spark, somehow, Mikasa.

_When he lets Mikasa into his barracks, he knows already why she came. Her face makes that obvious enough. She does not say anything right away though, so Eren goes back to his tiny desk, intent on finishing his last mission report before retiring for the night. She sits cross-legged on his bed, back stiff and straight. He refuses to be the first one to break the silence, so he takes up his pen again and resumes scrawling. Eren feels her gaze hot on his face, can practically hear the fury and frustration boiling inside her—both at him and at the situation. But he will not be the first to break._

_Mikasa knows she cannot out-stubborn him. Eventually, she shifts her weight to lean forward slightly, curling towards him. “Eren,” she begins. Her voice is taut as a bow string, steely as a dagger’s blade. “ **You don’t have to do this.** ”_

_Eren does not address her blatantly false statement. Instead, he asks, “ **Who told you?** ” Only five people are currently aware of the plan. Six, if Armin has already managed to put the given facts together and follow them to their natural conclusion._

_“ **Captain** Levi.” _

_And if the **Captain** told her about the plan, he surely told her about what Eren had asked him to do too. He thought Mikasa might be hurt by that part in particular, but that didn’t seem to be the case. If anything, he detects a hint of relief when she says the **Captain** ’s name. Good. That’s why he asked the **Captain** and not his sister or Armin. “ **Did he tell** Armin **too**?”_

_Mikasa ignores the question. “ **We can find another way** , Eren.”_

_He slaps his pen down on the desk, forced calm evaporating. “ **And how long is that going to take?** ” he snaps. “ **How many more people are going to die?** ”_

_“ **You don’t owe them anything—no, listen to me,** Eren,” Mikasa insists, talking over him when he begins to protest. She stands up, crossing over to his desk in two short strides and looming over him. “ **You don’t**_ **have _to do this. I…_** _” She trails off, the line of her strong shoulders slowly wilting as her anger gives away to fatigue. “Eren. **I won’t be able to bear it if you’re doing this because you think you**_ **have _to. You always have another option. You know that, right?_** _”_

_It’s been years since he last saw his sister cry, but she’s on the verge of tears now. Eren would have been too, if he wasn’t already all done crying over this. He pushes back his chair too, rising slowly. “ **It’s my decision,** ” he says, words firm but not unkind. “ **I want to do this,** Mikasa **. For you and** Armin **and everyone else.** ”_

_She searches his face, examining him for any indecision, any lack of resolve. She finds none. So she nods. “All right,” she says, tears finally escaping from the corner of her eyes. Before she can brush them away, he’s moved around the desk to embrace her. Her hands rest on his back instead of rising to her eyes, fingers clutching at his uniform. She buries her face against his shoulder and cries, quietly but with her whole heart. And he’s glad._

_Better that she do her crying now than wait until after._

“To be honest, I’m relieved,” Holly said. Oscar blinked, startled, and hoped he hadn’t zoned out for too long. At least Holly hadn’t seemed to notice. “You both seem like you’re doing well. This is a better world for all us. But especially you two, I think.”

Oscar didn’t know what to say to that. Before he could even begin to work something out, Levi appeared in his field of vision again, one finger subtly pressed to his wrist. Shoot, the time. He checked his phone’s clock and, sure enough, they needed to head out. “We’ve gotta go,” he apologized, rising out of his seat. “But can I get your number?”

They quickly exchanged information and then Holly hugged him, pulling him down so she could whispered in his ear. “Be sure to send me graduation pictures, okay? I’ve got to see him in that cap and gown.” Oscar snorted and promised that he would. She patted him once on the shoulder before letting him go.

Holly hesitated before Levi, but quickly stuck out her hand. “It was really nice meeting you. Good luck with college.”

Levi glanced up at Oscar, then shook her hand firmly. “Thanks.”

* * *

 

As they pulled out of the mall’s parking lot, Levi suddenly switched off the radio and asked, “Are you straight?”

Since they were waiting at a red light, Oscar turned to look at Levi and nearly laughed at his solemn face. “You say that like it would be some big shock,” he said, straining not to snicker.

“You watch chick flicks.”

Now Oscar couldn’t hold back. He chuckled, shaking his head. “What does that have to do with being straight or not?”

“Nothing, I guess,” Levi admitted, frowning.

“Romances are fun and they aren’t any less ridiculous than action movies. People only shit on them because people will shit on anything girls like.” The light changed and Oscar faced forward again, accelerating. “For the record, I’m bi. And where did that even come fr—wait, Holly?” Levi didn’t say anything, but from the corner of his eye, Oscar saw Levi’s mouth twitch ever so slightly and knew he’d hit the mark. “I’ve never dated Holly. Never even considered it.”

“Really?” Levi said, doubtful. “You two were awfully touchy-feely.”

Childishly, Oscar wanted to blurt, _"She started it!”_ Instead, he said “That’s because we hadn’t seen each other in a long time. We were just happy.” And, honestly, why did he even feel the need to justify his actions?

Levi shrugged, looking out the window. Discussion closed, apparently. Mentally shrugging as well, Oscar put the weird moment out of mind.

Weeks later, he would look back on it—and so many moments before—and wonder how he could’ve been so dense.

* * *

 

Levi graduated high school. As promised, Oscar sent the best pictures to Petra—and Lien, his mother, and Chloe and Rob too. The days afterward seemed impossibly short. It felt like Levi had barely finished crossing the stage when they started shopping for his dorm—bed set, school supplies, basic kitchenware, was he bringing a microwave or was his roommate?—and then it was move-in day.

The drive out to the university was dreary and it had nothing to do with the early hour at which they left the apartment. Levi slept for most of it, leaving Oscar with plenty of privacy to contemplate his melancholy. His, for he was certain that the aching sadness he felt belonged to him and not Eren Yaeger. Even still, it was an odd, slippery feeling and he couldn’t pin down the source of it nor its depths.

They stopped for breakfast just a few miles from the university, taking their time to avoid the move-in rush. By the time they’d finally pulled into the campus, all the eager, early arrivals had finished and cleared out. It meant they were moving in during the hottest part of the day, but it was worth it to not have to stand in line to use the elevator. Levi didn’t have much stuff anyway.

Levi’s roommate—Nicole? Natasha?—must have been one of the eager beavers because she’d already claimed her space and unpacked. She wasn’t anywhere to be seen though. Probably went for lunch with her family. Oscar hoped, for Levi’s sake, that she was nice. Or at least not a raging bigot.

Oscar set Levi’s final box down by his bed and groaned. “I can’t believe school is starting again already. Summer terms are weird.”

Levi had already started unpacking while Oscar lugged his belongings from the car to his third floor room. “Summer terms start in the summer,” he said, stashing cleaning supplies into a narrow closet. “That’s how they work.”

“I know that! I just…” Oscar rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing at the sweat he found there. “I don’t know, I just thought that I’d have you for a couple more months at least.”

Levi’s hands stilled, his entire body seeming to come to a stop. He cast a glance back at Oscar, long and calculating. “I do have a phone, you know. You can call me anytime. And there’s this thing called the internet—” He cut off when Oscar stole his pillow off the bed and chucked it at him. No good. Levi just caught it and slung it back. Oscar dodged, letting it soar down to the foot of the bed.

“I know about the internet, asshole,” he said, laughing. “It’s just not the same. I’m glad you’re going to college, but I’m going to miss you a lot.”

“I’m…” But Levi trailed off, staring down into the opened box on the counter before him. His fingers curled around the edges of it. After a moment, his head rose and he looked Oscar dead in the eye. Beneath his tense fingers, the box’s thin cardboard crumbled and began to slowly tear. “I like you.”

Oscar’s pulse pounded in his ears, but he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t understood. “…You like me?”

Levi nodded once, the motion small and tight. Now Oscar was the one frozen, the one searching for the right words. They never came. In the wake of Oscar’s silence, Levi soldiered on. “I like you. And sometimes—” He stopped and muttered something in Spanish to himself before switching back. “From the way you look at me, I think you must like me too.”

“The way I—” Oscar repeated numbly. He shook his head, trying to clear the throbbing beat from it. The noise was too much, he couldn’t think straight through it. “Levi. I… I can’t like you.”

“You _can’t_?” Levi’s jaw clenched around the words. “What, because I’m trans?”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

His fingernails were piercing the cardboard now. “What’s the problem then? Why _can’t_ you?” His voice only raised slightly, but it lashed out like a whip.

“Levi, you’re eighteen,” Oscar said, heart racing now. Panic attack? Adrenaline from the argument, if that was what this even was? He didn’t know. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Take advantage? You think—”

Levi broke their eye contact and swore in Spanish, the words rapid and cutting. They didn’t seem to be for Oscar, but he interrupted them nonetheless, demanding, “What?”

Levi breathed out loudly through his nose, finally unclenching his hands from the box’s now ragged edges. “Just— do you like me or not?” he asked, capturing Oscar’s gaze again.

Oscar stared back and felt the distinct sensation of free fall. Like his **gear** ’s lines had been cut. Like plunging from the roof top. His heart and lungs both fluttered uselessly. “I… I can’t, Levi.”

Levi closed his eyes, hands sinking down to hang loosely at his sides. “If you’re going to be like that,” he said, turning away, “then just forget about it."

The dorm’s AC was set to a low temperature. The sweat on Oscar’s skin cooled and he shivered. Otherwise, he did not move. He didn’t know what he should say. It seemed like everything he’d said so far had only made Levi angrier. He wanted to comfort Levi—he always did when Levi looked this exhausted, this beaten—but wouldn’t that just be rubbing salt in the wound? He didn’t know what he should do.

After a quiet, motionless moment, Levi provided the answer for him. Still not looking at him, Levi sighed, “Leave me alone, Oscar.”

So Oscar grabbed his car keys, walked out the door, and— without another word— left him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs at the wedding were not chosen at random. For full appreciation of tipsy Levi's singing, I suggest looking them up. Also, don't ask me what year this fic takes place in. IDK. Personally, I've always associated Lady Gaga with my high school years, even though I was never really a fan. 
> 
> For those that don't know-- U.S. universities have a fall term, a spring term, and a summer term. Most students apply for the fall terms and start in the fall terms. However, sometimes if a student's application is considered not quite good enough, but also isn't bad enough for a complete rejection, they will be accepted for the summer term instead as a sort of trial period. (I say "trial," but the only way you won't get in for the fall after starting in the summer is if you just completely blow off everything and flunk out.) Generally speaking, it is much easier to get accepted for summer terms because less high school seniors apply for them. Many students bank on this strategy to get into more competitive schools. If you apply for fall, most universities automatically consider you for the summer term too.
> 
> About dorms-- while some schools have more progressive, trans-friendly housing policies, the majority of U.S. universities room trans students in a room/floor that reflects their legal sex. Unfortunately, having your sex changed legally is much more difficult than a name change. Many states require you to have undergone sex reassignment surgery, something that is unaffordable for most college-age trans folk-- not to mention not something that every trans person even wants.
> 
> Can you believe I originally intended Part Two to be one chapter?! What was I thinking?! I hope y'all enjoyed the final segment of Part Two. And, uh, I'm sorry about that ending.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr (zhedang) or twitter (zhe1dang3) for fic news. I may be going on a semi-hiatus from fic writing for a while due to my health, so if that happens I'll let people know through those channels.


	5. PART THREE (1/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which people live, people die, nothing much changes, everything changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said last time that I might be going on a break, but apparently that was a lie. An outrageous lie because I'm pretty sure this is the fastest I've updated so far for this fic, haha. Enjoy this monster chapter.

**PART THREE (1/3)**

The apartment was one bedroom and one bath, with a separate kitchen. Oscar was sure that the landlord had told him the exact square footage at some point, but he could no longer recall. He’d picked this apartment because it was reasonably close to work and seemed clean enough. When he’d first moved in, the space seemed tight compared to living at his mother’s house, but he’d gotten used to it before long.

Now the apartment was wide and spacious. Empty.  All of his furniture was still there, all of his stuff, but it wasn’t nearly enough to fill the gaping hole.

In the mornings, he couldn’t wait to leave and go to work. At night, he turned the television’s volume up high and pretended that the people talking on the screen knew his name. When they glanced into the camera, he stared back and imagined they could see him too, if only they would look at the camera a few moments longer.

He tried not to think of Levi. Apparently, Levi did the same.

* * *

“No cheerleader this season?” Vivian called out as she threw to him.

Oscar caught the baseball in his glove, relishing the familiar sting of its impact, and threw it back in a smooth, mindless motion. “What?”

“Where’s your roommate?” she clarified, tossing again.

“He’s at college.” _And probably not in the mood to root for me even if he was here_ , he added to himself.

“Ah. Is that why you’ve been so down in the dumps lately? Lonely?” Oscar shrugged, exaggerating the motion so she would be able to see it from where she was standing. Vivian caught the ball and then paused to wipe some sweat from her forehead before it ran into her eyes. “You know what would cheer you up?” she said.

Oscar examined her cautiously, squinting to see her face better through the direct sunlight. He was certain that she wasn’t about to ask him on another date— they’d both agreed they made better friends—but he couldn’t help feeling a bit paranoid. It seemed like recently he’d been exceptionally dull when it came to romantic cues. “What?”

“My cat had kittens. You should come over and see them.” She resumed her throwing stance and flung the ball to him. “They’re really cute.”

Oscar didn’t get a chance to reply because the warm-up ended and it was time for the coin toss. Their team wound up on the offensive, so he waited until they were in the dugout to ask, “This is just a ploy to get me to fall in love with one of them and take it home with me, isn’t it?”

Vivian chuckled, wiggling her fingers into batting gloves. “Yeah, and? A cat is better company than no company.”

Oscar grunted noncommittally. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a cat before.” Hell, he’d never owned a pet more challenging than a beta fish. And didn’t cats need attention and affection? He didn’t know if he had any to spare. Summer was usually the best time of year for him mentally and emotionally, but this one felt more like a winter. It didn’t seem fair to subject a cat to his dubious care when, honestly, he was struggling to handle himself.  

As though she could sense the dark direction of his thoughts, Vivian patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, cats are really independent. And maybe taking care of one would make you feel better. You know, like giving plants to people in nursing homes.”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, the words automatic by now. It felt like everyone had been asking if he was okay lately. People at the lab he’d never even spoken to would come up to him and ask if he wanted to go for drinks. No, he didn’t. Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. He wondered how plain his misery must be if strangers were picking up on it. He’d thought he was better at hiding than this.

Or maybe he subconsciously wanted them to notice, wanted somebody to look at him and talk to him. Vivian was right; he _was_ really lonely.

“All right,” he told her. “After the game, let’s go see these kittens of yours.” At this point, he’d go just about anywhere to avoid returning to the apartment a while longer.

* * *

Oscar wound up taking home a short-haired gray kitten with mismatched eyes and a list of supplies Vivian assured him were all essential. Food bowl, water bowl, food, litter box, litter, toys… who knew one tiny sack of fur and bones needed so much stuff. After deciding that he probably couldn’t bring a squirming kitten into the store with him and it’d be cruel to leave her alone in the hot car, he corralled the cat in his apartment’s bathtub and made the quickest supply run humanly possible.

He was only gone for half an hour at the most, but when he came back he could hear the kitten crying, her pathetic wails especially grating as they echoed against the bathroom walls. “Okay, all right, relax,” he muttered, bending down to scoop her from the tub. She dug her tiny claws painlessly into his hand, still crying. Oscar sat on the tub’s hard edge and deposited the kitten on his lap, carefully stroking her skinny back just once. It felt like he’d knock her over if he petted too hard. “See, I didn’t abandon you. I just went out to buy all your stuff. You need this junk, right?”

The gray kitten stopped her wailing, electing instead to toddle across his lap and sniff his pants. Eventually, she found a good spot and started kneading him, purring. “That’s right. Relax. I might end up being a terrible owner, but I’m not going to abandon you.” The kitten finished her kneading and curled into a small, sleepy ball. Her eyes—one blue, the other brown—watched Oscar’s hand as it descended slowly to pet the kitten with three cautious fingers. Was it normal for a kitten to be so little, he wondered? This one hadn’t seemed any smaller than its siblings, but it was so _tiny_.

“I guess I have to name you,” he mused. He’d never been much good at names. His poor beta fish had been called Purple. Then again, he’d been eight when he'd gotten it. The kitten blinked at his voice, then turned to tuck her face into her side. “I can’t get away with calling you Gray, can I?”

If the kitten had any opinions on the matter, she didn’t offer them. But by the end of the night, without really intending to, Oscar had settled on a name.

* * *

Chloe called. This in and of itself was not noteworthy. But when he answered, she didn’t open with a “Hey” or “How are you?” or even, “Okay, you’ve got to listen to this!” Instead she said, “So I spoke to Levi a few minutes ago.”

He knew what the weight of her words meant. Beneath them, he sank into his recliner. “He told you?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! Seriously, Oscar, I called you, what, four days ago? And you just let me prattle on about work for an hour.”

Scout was climbing his pants leg, one paw reaching over the other. He reached down and lifted the kitten up to sit with him. Scout squeaked in protest but eventually settled down for a nap, her warm back pressed to his stomach. “I just… didn’t know what to say.”

Chloe sighed. “I swear, sometimes the two of you are way too much alike. I’m pretty sure the only reason Levi told me was because he wanted me to make sure you’re okay. He didn’t say as much, but that was the impression I got. ”

He repeated the words like a robot following its script. “I’m fine.”

“Oscar. You lived with him for a year. I know you cared about him. Don’t tell me you’re fine.”

“Okay, so I might be having some sort of midlife crisis.” He scratched the top of Scout’s head with one finger, marveling at how fragile her skull felt and how soft the fur there was. “I got a cat.”

“You got a—no, don’t you dare try to change the subject, Oscar. We’re talking about this.”

His hand clenched tight around the phone. “What’s there to talk about?” he snapped. “I shot him down and now he’s mad at me.”

“From what I heard, you didn’t give him the courtesy of being properly shot down,” Chloe drawled, unimpressed with his quick rise to anger. Oscar huffed wordlessly. Her voice softened as she continued. “And I don’t think he’s mad at you. I think he was mad about what you said.”

 _Is there a difference, really?_ he wondered. Either way, Levi was angry. No, not exactly angry— hurt. With Levi though, the two usually went hand-in-hand. He dug his fingertips into his temple and massaged in small circles, trying to ward off the headache he felt coming. “Do you think I did the right thing?” he asked.

“Well, you definitely could’ve done a better job turning him down.” That wasn’t the answer Oscar wanted though, so he waited until finally Chloe groaned. “Hell, I don’t know, Oscar. Well, first of all, _do_ you like him?”

Oscar stayed silent. To be perfectly honest, he really hadn’t known when Levi asked him and he still wasn’t sure now. He didn’t _dislike_ Levi. Levi certainly had the kind of body and face he tended to favor—compact with lots of sharp lines. Personality-wise, he could be abrasive at times, but Oscar knew he was hardly an angel either. They both had tempers—Oscar’s ran hot and fast while Levi’s temper was a cooler, slower burn—and they both probably had a little more pride than was healthy for either of them. But Levi was considerate and hard-working and he didn’t put up with Oscar’s bullshit. Usually, Oscar wouldn’t have any qualms about dating someone like that. Except— “He’s a teenager, Chloe. I shouldn’t even be thinking of him like that.”

“But are you? I’m just asking, I’m not judging—okay, I am, a little bit, but I’m trying not to. Anyway— are you?”

Oscar remembered being entranced by Levi’s laugh on Thanksgiving and mumbled, “I probably have and just haven’t been acknowledging it.”

Chloe snorted. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”

“I don’t like teenagers,” Oscar protested. “I mean, not since I was one. It’s creepy.” He wondered if this was Eren’s fault—his memories, anyway. He could barely look at Levi without also seeing the **Captain** too and he’d been a lot older.  

“Well, he _is_ legal,” Chloe acknowledged. “But if you have to point that out about someone, a relationship with them probably isn’t going to end well.”

Scout stirred a little in her sleep, nuzzling her head against his thigh and stretching her limbs. Oscar stroked the feathery fur on Scout’s exposed stomach and she curled around his fingers drowsily. In his ear, Chloe continued on. “Besides, if you aren’t comfortable with the idea, then you’re just not. You shouldn’t start a relationship if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“I suppose,” he said. He still didn’t know if he did the right thing. All he knew was that he wasn’t happy about his decision.

“Oscar,” Chloe said, something in her voice shifting.

“What?”

“Why does Levi think you were in the army?”

Oscar’s heart stuttered and he sat up, Scout mewing in protest at his sudden motion. “You didn’t tell him I wasn’t, did you?”

“No, but why would you even lie about that?”

Oscar leaned back again and Scout resettled, pressing her back firmly against him as though she could hold him down with her insignificant weight. He let out a long breath and Scout made a sort of snuffling noise. “He kind of just… came to that conclusion on his own,” he said.

Chloe wasn’t having it though. “You mean you let him think it. That’s still lying.”

“Well, what was I supposed to say?” he demanded. “No, I wasn’t in the army, I just had some freaky psychotic break thing for no reason that fucked me up. Yeah, that doesn’t make me sound crazy at all.” Or better yet—I got a sudden info dump on my past life and now I’m reacting to trauma that didn’t even happen to me, probably didn’t even happen in this universe. “Ugh, and don’t start with the ‘you’re not crazy’ stuff. I know. I’m just saying that’s how it’ll sound.” His legs itched with the urge to stand up and pace, but Scout opened one eye and shot him a dirty look like she’d somehow read his mind.

“You should tell him,” Chloe said, undeterred. “I don’t think it would make a difference to him.”

And he knew it probably wouldn’t. He’d probably be pissed about being misled—okay, _deceived_ —but it wouldn’t matter to Levi why he was sick. However, Oscar mumbled something noncommittal into his cell phone. It wouldn’t be easy to back out of the lie now, not after how he and Lien had used it. He knew that he was skating on thin ice—that all it would take was a single comment from his mother for Levi to learn the truth—but he just couldn’t deal with it right now.

He already had enough to deal with.

Eventually Chloe let him go, but not before wrangling a promise of cat pictures out of him. He sighed as he hung up, his entire body wilting in the recliner. He knew he needed to get up and eat dinner, but the idea of even standing seemed exhausting. “What do you think, Scout?” he asked the dozing kitten. “I’m a creep, aren’t I?”

Scout just buried her face deeper into her fur. If Oscar had fur, he’d probably do the same.

* * *

Oscar knew he should contact Levi, especially since Chloe thought he’d seemed worried. Call him, text him. Email him, even. But he couldn’t quite work up the nerve. And what would he even say? So he convinced himself that he was giving Levi space— leaving him alone, like he’d asked— and let more days go by. Weeks. And as the silence stretched longer and longer, breaking it began to seem impossible.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone had dropped out of Oscar’s life like this. He’d fallen out of contact with all of his high school friends slowly but surely. He barely even spoke to his step-father anymore, never mind saw him in person. The only relationship from college he’d put the effort into maintaining was Chloe’s. His classmates, teammates, the people he’d dated—he couldn’t even remember some of their names. Some of those people had decided on their own not to stay in contact for whatever reason. But some of the lapsed connections, he had to acknowledge, were definitely his fault. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, it was just… inevitable, wasn’t it? Time moved forward and people changed. You either lost people to life or you lost them to death.

He wondered if this was something he’d inherited from his birth father. Sometimes, Oscar wondered if his father had rationalized leaving Louise and his infant child as something inevitable.

Or perhaps this was something Oscar learned from Lisa.

Regardless, Levi didn’t need help anymore. He was doing well, firmly standing on his own two feet. Oscar’s obligation was over, so he could let Levi go now.

 _Helping Levi was never about obligation._ The thought wasn’t his own. It crept and crawled out of the dim corners of his mind, out from the memories of Eren Yaeger. _I owed it to him, true, but that’s not why I did it._

He pushed the thoughts away. Motives didn’t matter anymore because it was time for Levi to leave. Maybe he’d see Levi again years later and they’d make weird small talk. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe they’d never see each other again and Levi would eventually forget him, at least until he remembered everything from their past. If he did.

But Levi didn’t leave. Instead, he texted.

 _I reacted poorly,_ the message said. It arrived around lunch, over three weeks since Oscar had left him at school. _But I’m not apologizing._

Despite the text’s terseness—or perhaps because of it—Oscar found himself smiling. He could imagine Levi’s face as he typed it, brow pinched, lips pressed together and thin.

For the rest of the day, he wondered what he should text back— and if he even should reply at all. Finally, as he lay in bed trying to fall asleep, he groped at the nightstand for his phone and typed out _That’s ok. I’m sorry,_ hitting send before he could talk himself out of it. He watched as the light of his phone screen dimmed and then switched off. Beside him, Scout stood and stretched before moving to plop down beside his head. He could hear her purring.

When the phone lit up again, it startled him and he nearly dropped it. He squinted at the bright screen, straining to read.

_I don’t want you to apologize._

Levi didn’t say what he did want, but Oscar could hazard a guess. He was still waiting for a real answer to his question: do you like me or not?

Oscar knew the answer now, but that didn’t make saying it any easier. So he didn’t. Instead, he returned his phone to the nightstand and curled up under the blankets, Scout warm and rumbling against the skin of his neck.

And that was it, for now. Other than that single exchange, they didn’t talk. Not really. Every few days, Levi might shoot him a text, though never anything of real substance. His LIT2000 professor smelled like garlic. His roommate, Natalie, snored and he was going to murder her in her sleep sometime before the semester was over. The printers at the library stole his money.

Oscar replied in kind with his own vague, unimportant updates. The baseball team made it to citywide semi-finals. His mom said hi and good luck on your exam. He’d found Levi’s flash drive that had gone missing four months ago—should he mail it to him?

It couldn’t really be called talking. Because if Oscar was really talking to Levi, his messages would’ve been very different.

_I think I’ve forgotten the sound of your voice._

_I keep seeing people that look like you but aren’t you and it's terrible._

_When are you coming back?_

That last one did eventually get sent, though in a less needy form. The summer term was nearing its end. Oscar knew this because he’d looked up the school’s calendar online, not because Levi said so. The school calendar also said that the fall term began less than a week afterward, but there was still a gap. So he texted Levi, asking _What are you doing before fall term starts?_

It took Levi two days to reply, so long that Oscar began to think that Levi had lost his phone. Or worse, he was ignoring Oscar. Finally, an answer came: _There’s a fee you pay to extend your housing the extra days between summer and fall._

Oscar looked up this alleged fee. Apparently, Levi would rather pay $300 than see him. Fantastic.

So he left him alone. He stopped initiating conversation and only texted Levi when he messaged Oscar first. As a result, Levi’s texts became shorter, tenser, and less frequent. Oscar knew he’d made Levi mad again and felt bad about it, but it seemed like the best thing to do. If what Levi wanted was distance, then he’d get it. And if that wasn’t what he wanted, maybe he’d resent Oscar for it and this entire mess would become a non-issue.

“What do you think would be better?” Oscar asked Scout. He was lying on the couch, trying to summon the strength to get up and take his medications while the cat chased a dust bunny across the floor. He’d been struggling to find the energy to clean lately too. “Would it be better if Levi hates me or if he likes me? ‘Cause if he hated me instead, I wouldn’t have to deal with… everything. But if he hated me… I don’t want that either.”

Scout didn’t have an answer. Neither did Oscar.

And although Levi’s texts slowed to a trickle, they never completely stopped.

* * *

The days grew colder, an edge of warning in the chilly air. Oscar knew he needed to get it together, like a squirrel burying acorns before the freeze. Except in his case, he needed to somehow re-make himself into less of a wreck before his annual extra dose of depression arrived.

So he pretended that everything was okay. He pretended _ferociously_. Things weren’t just okay, they were wonderful. Truly and absolutely great. He threw himself into being more outgoing at work. He chatted up everyone, accepted every invitation to go out. His social calendar hadn’t been this packed since his first year of college, before he’d realized that if he wanted to get into a good graduate program, his grades would have to be flawless.

Well. What good had that done him?

People noticed the difference. Vivian, of course, wanted to know what had happened, but he brushed her off. Other people, those that didn’t know him as well, just took the shift at face-value. _I always thought you were kind of gloomy_ , they’d say, usually after a few drinks. And Oscar would grin over his own glass of ginger ale as though to say, _What, me? No way._

And if he spent his nights lying awake and feeling hollowed out and soulless, that was all right. _Fake it until you make it, Oscar,_ he’d repeat to himself, over and over until he finally fell asleep.

He dreamed about killing **Titans**. But the hands that wielded the blades weren’t Eren Yaeger’s. They were his.

As exhausting as it was to pretend to be someone he wasn’t, he had to admit that it was working. If he sat around like a lump, he stayed stuck forever. But if he flung himself into motion, he kept going. Just like inertia. So Oscar hurtled through the air and all he could do was hope that he was soaring upward instead of plummeting down.

He never suspected that another force might appear and knock him sideways.

* * *

If Oscar didn’t follow the news so closely, he likely would’ve missed the story. But his frantic, false energy had allowed him to reclaim some of his routines and that included scanning the internet to appease Eren’s specter. And so, he saw it.

The story was just a short AP brief—a fairly well-known politician in Syria had died in a car crash. The crash itself seemed orchestrated and the politician had a reputation for vocal dissent, so foul play was suspected. The fatal “accident” had also claimed the lives of his wife and two children. More details to come.

The story, although sad, would’ve been completely meaningless to Oscar if it weren’t for the picture—the politician standing tall and proud behind his grinning daughter, with one arm around his wife who smiled demurely, somewhat preoccupied with the toddler she held aloft.

Oscar stared at the toddler and a static-like noise droned in his head, louder and louder until it became wailing. He stared at the toddler until the image blurred into a pool of pixels and his eyes stung. Air moved quickly in and out of his lungs, too quickly, his heart fluttered, and tears burned and spilled over.

He sat alone in his apartment and sobbed. Eren Yeager sobbed.

He couldn’t— he couldn’t handle this. Someone needed to know, someone needed to be with him. His fingers scrabbled in his pants pocket and pulled out his phone, trembling as they called Alexis. Mina. Mina could help.

But the phone went to her voice mail. He left a messy message, asking—begging—for her to call back as soon as possible. He dropped the phone when he finished and bent over in his chair to press his knees to his chest. He needed to slow his breathing down, to actually hold the air. He needed— he needed somebody. After months and months of meeting almost nobody in the city, his phone was finally full of contacts he could call, but almost no one he could come crying to. There was Chloe and his mother, but he couldn’t call them for _this_. Both of them would ask too many questions and how could he explain?

He needed— Eren needed some sort of recognition that this was real. This pain, this sorrow. Someone had to know. But he couldn’t—

There was only Levi. Levi, who he hadn’t spoken to in months, not unless one counted short text messages containing nothing of substance besides the other person’s silent anger and hurt.

He scrubbed tears from his cheeks with one hand and called Levi with the other. For several long moments, too long, he focused on the ringing as he tried to push his sobs back down into his chest. Calm down. He had to calm down. Black dots crept into his vision and he thought he might faint instead.

Finally, Levi answered. At the sound of his voice, a sob burst free—an ugly sound of anguish or relief, his head was spinning too much to tell the difference.

“Oscar?” Levi said. He didn’t sound mad, which was the best he’d hoped for. He couldn’t handle anyone else’s emotions at the moment. He didn’t even have a handle on his own. He _couldn’t_. “Are you crying?”

“Try— trying not to,” he managed. The words floundered through his wet, heaving throat like drowning swimmers. “Can’t bre—breathe.”

“Okay. Let’s work on that, yeah?” Levi’s voice was so soft that it almost pained him. “Let me hear you. Breathe in slow. Slower, Oscar.” He tried. The breath shuddered and rattled inside of him, distorted by his crying. “Good. Good. Out now, nice and long.”

Levi talked him through his breathing, words shifting into hushed Spanish as he regained a measure of control. He stumbled over to the couch and curled up on it, phone held to his ear and chest rising and falling with the cadence of Levi’s flowing, gentle sentences.

Eventually, his breathing leveled off until it was so slow he was in danger of falling asleep. Sleep might’ve been a good idea, but he didn’t want to drift off just yet. He hadn’t spoken to Levi in so long and Levi didn’t seem mad right now. In fact, judging by the tone of his Spanish, he was anything but angry.

“What are you saying?” he asked.

The Spanish stopped abruptly, but his question was otherwise ignored. “Oscar. What happened?”

The tears were dry on his face, but his throat still felt thick. He swallowed. Swallowed again. “My best friend died. I just found out.”

“Chloe?” Levi asked, alarmed.

“Chl— no. Not her. You don’t… you haven’t met him.” The static buzzed on in his head, but he tried to focus through it, not wanting to accidentally say too much. “I hadn’t seen him in a long time. A very long time. But still… he was my best friend.”

Levi didn’t express any condolences. He just listened until he fell silent, then said, “Are you all right?”

He had to think about that, assessing his psychical, mental, and emotional condition. His heart rate was back where it should be, but there was a heavy weight crushing his chest. His head was clear enough to know where and when he was _— he was Oscar, Oscar, Oscar—_ but it seemed as though he might slip away at any moment. He felt terrible, like he was standing in the middle of a tornado and screaming into the unhearing, uncaring wind. “I don’t know.”  
  
“Are you going to hurt yourself?”

Oscar pressed his head deeper into the couch cushions and mumbled, “No.”

“All right.” Levi sighed, a rumble of thunder into his ear. “Listen, I—”

“I miss you.” The words slipped from his lips, unbidden. And once they’d fallen free, everything else followed. “I want to see you and talk to you, all the time. And— it’s not that I don’t like you. I do. I probably like you too much. It’s just confusing and— I don’t know.” He didn’t want to tell Levi these things but at the same time he did. Levi needed to hear them, deserved to know them.

For a long moment, there was nothing but Levi breathing quietly on the other end. As the moment stretched longer, Oscar wished he could call the words back, un-say them somehow. He knew that Levi had been waiting months for this answer, had probably given up on it, but none of Oscar’s previous qualms had gone away. He still felt like a creep. He still didn’t know what was the right decision.

Finally, Levi breathed deeply and said, “I don’t think we should talk about this right now.”

The moment Levi finished, Oscar realized the truth of his words. This—whatever “this” was—was important and he wasn’t in the proper frame of mind for important things. Only a few minutes ago, he’d been bordering on hysteria. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“—Don’t fucking apologize.”

Oscar stopped. “I do miss you,” he said, secret-soft. “I’m not just saying that because I’m upset.”

There was an odd noise on the other end—not from Levi, but from something else. Oscar wondered where Levi was, what he’d interrupted with his crisis. “ _Listen,_ okay?” Levi said, but then he paused. Oscar waited. Scout’s head poked out from the shoe rack and she climbed down from it, sauntering across the apartment to hop onto the couch next to Oscar. He reached out wearily to scratch her under the chin.

On the other end, Levi finally began speaking again. “Winter break is soon,” he said, slow and hesitant. “Could I come stay with you? We can talk about this then.”

“Yes,” Oscar answered immediately. Really, Levi didn’t even need to ask. This apartment was just as much Levi’s as it was his, never mind that Levi’s name hadn’t been on the lease in months. “Come home.”

Another strange noise. This time it did come from Levi, though it was just as unidentifiable. “All right,” he said. “I have to go, but… call me again if you need to. Or if you want to. You can call me whenever you want, you know.”

“Okay. I will,” Oscar promised, feeling very tired and very small.

Levi hung up.

Oscar let the phone fall from his fingers, curling up even tighter on the couch until Scout was forced to hop off again. Levi was coming home. Armin was dead. He needed to sleep so he’d have the strength to go to work tomorrow and act like everything was fine. Like he hadn’t lost someone irreplaceable and like he wasn’t hopelessly lost.

Outside, snow flurries were swirling in the air. Oscar watched them through the window until, finally, he fell asleep.

* * *

Oscar marked the last day of the fall semester down on his calendar in bright red marker. He'd lost the willpower to make a complete transformation, so surviving until that day became his new goal. He focused on getting to work each day, eating at least somewhat healthy, and taking his medications, even going so far as to text Alexis updates daily so she could hold him accountable. It made him feel robotic, but at least it was more stable than faking.

He knew that he should be thinking of what to say to Levi when he finally saw him, what the best decision would be. But considering it only locked him into endless circles. He liked Levi but he shouldn’t like Levi. A relationship with Levi was probably a bad idea, but he wanted it.

Fortunately, an utterly unanticipated matter arose to distract him. He called his mother like he did every weekend and spoke to her like usual, carefully editing out the worst aspects of his depression and anxiety, and well, pretty much all of the weirdness currently surrounding Levi. Louise sounded distracted, but he figured she was probably preoccupied with an illustration or something else for work.

He was about ready to hang up when Louise said, “You won’t believe who I spoke to earlier this week.”

Oscar’s heart somersaulted inside his rib cage. But no, surely she couldn’t mean Levi. She would’ve called him out already if she’d spoken to him. He kept his voice level. “Who?”

“Engin.”

It took Oscar a moment to place the name, but when he did an inexplicable burst of fury heated his chest. He had to restrain himself from throwing the phone across the room. “What’d he want?”

“Apparently he’s going to be in the States a few weeks from now,” his mother said, sounding tired. “He said he wants to see you.”

“I don’t want to see him,” he snapped. “Does he seriously think he can just waltz in and fucking—”

“—Don’t shoot the messenger,” Louise reprimanded him. Oscar shrank down under his mother’s rebuke, defiant shoulders curling inward. “I told him you probably wouldn’t be interested, but he made me promise to ask.”

“…I don’t want to see him,” Oscar repeated, without the snarling this time.

Louise sighed. “No one is saying you have to, Oscar. Let me know if you change your mind though.”

“I’m not going to.”

“At least think about it for longer than a second. You may not ever have a chance to see him again.”

Oscar flopped down into the recliner. Scout detected an open lap with that sixth sense of hers and appeared almost instantly to curl up on his legs. He petted her gently despite his glowering. “What would we even talk about? We don’t have anything in common.”

“Nothing except half your heritage.” She paused as though she could hear him roll his eyes over the phone. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious?”

“No,” he replied honestly.

“He’s part of who you are, Oscar.”

“He doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

It was an old argument and they both knew their parts by heart. Thankfully, Louise didn’t feel the need to rehash the whole thing. With one more request that he consider it, she hung up. Oscar slammed the phone onto the recliner’s arm and made a senseless, frustrated noise. From his lap, Scout glared at him for waking her.

“Why couldn’t I have been reborn as a cat?” he asked her. “Cats don’t have to think about anything.”

Scout was unimpressed by his inner turmoil. She licked her paw a few times before setting her chin down on it and closing her eyes again.

On the calendar, there were only a handful of days before he had to drive out to Levi’s university and face him. He still had no idea what he was going to say.

* * *

“You got a cat?” Levi asked.

From her comfortable perch on the couch, Scout turned her head in the direction of the entrance way and blinked in a decidedly bored fashion.

“I didn’t tell you? Wait, you’re not allergic, are you?”

“You haven’t been telling me _anything_ ,” Levi muttered, exasperated. Oscar winced internally, but didn’t defend himself. Levi dumped his bag on the couch and regarded the cat carefully before reaching out to let Scout sniff his fingers. “Since when have you had a cat?”

“Uh… since June, I guess.” Scout had been a tiny thing when he’d first left Vivian’s place with her, able to sit on the palm of his hand. He didn’t think she was done growing, but she’d expanded from a ball of fluff into a long-limbed, slightly pudgy creature.

Levi snorted and patted Scout on the head. “You replaced me with a cat. Are you a suburban mom now? Though I would’ve pegged you more for the dog type to deal with an empty nest.”

“I do like dogs better,” Oscar admitted. “But a friend was trying to give away kittens, so…” He left out the fact that said friend was Vivian. Levi had never liked her much. Oscar suspected that had less to do with Vivian herself and a lot more to do with the fact that she and Oscar had dated, if only briefly.

“Well, I like cats better,” Levi said, scratching Scout under the chin. Scout closed her eyes in bliss, leaning into his fingers. “What’s its name?”

“Scout.”

“Like To Kill a Mockingbird?”

 _Yeah_ was on the tip of the tongue. It’d be a small, simple lie, one with no real consequences. But Oscar pressed his lips together to keep the word from slipping out. If he couldn’t call back his lie about the origins of his PTSD, he could at least stop lying about little things like this. Levi deserved his honesty, as much of it as he could give. “No,” he said. “Scout like… like a soldier.”

Thankfully, Levi didn’t ask why he’d named a cat Scout. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, but he knew the reasons had very little to do with Özgür Gözübüyük. The name had formed in his mind in a moment of weakness, but before he’d realized what he’d done, it was too late. He couldn’t think of the cat by any other name now.

Levi was still petting the cat, not looking at him. It seemed like he might stroke Scout and ignore Oscar as much as possible for the entirety of winter break if Oscar let him. So Oscar cleared his throat and asked, “…Are you… are you ready to talk now?”

Oscar had tried to get them talking when he’d first picked Levi up from the school, but Levi had cut him off, saying, “We are not doing this while driving, no way,” and Oscar had to bow to the wisdom of that. Just because he’d been terribly depressed lately didn’t mean he wanted to die driving because he’d been distracted.

Levi scooped Scout up and sat down on the couch with her on his lap. He shoved his bag out of the way to make some more space, then looked up at Oscar. Oscar sat down obediently beside him. “Where did you want to start?” Levi asked.

Oscar’s fingers twitched, clenching and unclenching into fists. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, but then almost immediately a question bubbled up to the top of his chest. “Why’d you get mad?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” Levi drawled.

“I told you I didn’t want to take advantage of you and you started ranting in Spanish.”

“ _That_.” Levi’s mouth twisted in an unpleasant line. “That wasn’t really your fault. You didn’t know better.”

“Okay…” Even that day in Levi’s dorm, he hadn’t gotten the impression that the anger was aimed at him. Or, at least, not that specific anger. Levi had plenty more that _was_ for Oscar. “But why?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Levi said, scratching along Scout’s spine. Oscar didn’t say anything though and eventually Levi sighed. He glanced sideways at Oscar, giving Oscar the distinct impression that he was being sized up. “I don’t really like talking about this.” Oscar rushed to withdraw the question, but Levi shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Just…” He faced forward again, eyes not locking on anything in particular. “I don’t appreciate being treated like a child. I didn’t have the luxury of it when I really was a child. And now that I’m older… when someone tries, it feels like ‘You’re too fucking late, asshole. Where were you ten years ago when I actually needed this?’”

It’d been a long time since Oscar had given any consideration to Levi’s family, but now a fresh rush of anger coursed through him. Levi must’ve sensed the shift in his demeanor because he looked back to Oscar and his mouth’s ugly slash flattened into something lighter. “Whatever you’re imagining, I promise it wasn’t as bad as you think.”

“The night I found you,” Oscar said lowly, struggling to keep his voice even. “Someone had _choked_ you, Levi.”

“We’re getting off-topic,” Levi said. Oscar nodded and tried to let go of the fury, breathing slowly through his nose. Levi touched the back of Oscar’s hand lightly. “I wasn’t getting beaten up all the time or whatever you’re thinking.”

That was probably supposed to make Oscar feel better, but it didn’t help much. “Your turn,” he said, needing a distraction. “Ask a question.”

Scout squirmed a little in Levi’s lap and he let go of her. She jumped up to the top of the couch’s back, then plodded along it until she was sitting like a gargoyle on the arm beside Oscar. Oscar petted her while he waited. Finally, Levi sat back and asked, “Why’d you stop texting?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”

Levi snorted, unconvinced. “If I didn’t want to talk to you, I would’ve said so.”

That was probably true—okay, definitely true—but Oscar couldn’t help pointing out accusingly, “You didn’t want to see me.”

“Those aren’t the same thing and you know it.”

“So you admit that you didn’t want to see me.”

Levi bit down on his lip. Oscar could practically hear the Spanish boiling over inside him, clamoring to be spat out, but he stuck to English. “Of course I didn’t want to see you. Fuck, Oscar— if you’d just said that you didn’t like me back that would’ve been fine. I would’ve gotten over it. Instead, you gave me this ‘can’t’ bullshit—”

“—It’s not bullshit,” Oscar protested.

Levi made a noise that could only be described as a growl and bolted to his feet. “Then why can’t you? Besides my age, which is _legal_ , by the way.”

“I don’t want to take advantage of you. And no,” Oscar said when Levi glared and opened his mouth. “It’s not just an age thing. You met me when you were at a vulnerable point in your life. It’s not healthy to… to latch onto someone just because they’re nice to you.”

Levi laughed just once, sharp and cold. “You’re right, how stupid of me. I should’ve fallen for someone who treated me like shit instead.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“—It’s bullshit, Oscar.” His hand sliced the air decisively, refusing to broker any more arguments. “ _I like you._ It’s not some psychobabble attachment thing. I’m not confused. Do you really think I don’t know my feelings?” Levi jabbed his own chest, voice rising. “That I don’t know _myself_?”

No. He didn’t think that. All the fight drained out of Oscar and he shook his head, leaning forward to curl closer to his knees. “You do. You definitely do.” The ferocity left Levi and he folded himself back down onto the couch beside Oscar. Oscar stared at him, his tongue heavy with a confession he would barely admit even to himself. “Sometimes…” he started. “I feel like… like you’re much more mature than me. You know who you are and what you want so clearly.” He ran his hands over his face and chuckled, low and dark, between his fingers. “I don’t even know where I am sometimes.”

“You don’t know where you are sometimes because you have PTSD,” Levi said. “That doesn’t make you immature.”

Oscar peered at Levi’s serious, intent expression and chuckled again, weak but more genuine this time. “I know that. But I still feel… I don’t know. Everything is all twisted in knots.”

Levi considered that, staring at Oscar and then the floor. Oscar thought maybe that the conversation was done for now, but then Levi murmured, “You said you liked me.”

It wasn’t another piece of their argument or even bait for compliments. It was a question, a search for confirmation that Oscar hadn’t changed his mind. “I do,” he said quietly. It still felt like a secret, like something he should be ashamed of.

“But you haven’t made up your mind about what to do about it?” Oscar shook his head and Levi sank backwards into the couch. “What do you want from me, Oscar? You want me to wait around until I’m pushing thirty too?

Oscar didn’t know. All he knew for sure was that he didn’t want Levi to be angry with him anymore. “I just… I need time, Levi,” he said, feeling ridiculous even as the words left his mouth. He’d already taken so much time. But it’d be foolish to rush into any sort of decision here. Dating someone so much younger than him would likely cause a lot of issues. And then there was the problem of Levi’s memories. But that particular concern was far off and he was unwilling to automatically disregard a relationship with Levi just because it’d be difficult. “I’m not saying you have to wait,” he hastened to add. “But if you’re willing to wait, I promise that I’ll be thinking about it.”  
  
Levi examined him with a long, scouring stare that made Oscar feel like his skin was glass and Levi could see straight into him. Oscar wondered what he saw beneath his skin, if Levi would see how cloudy his mind was and the sharp pinpricks of memories. “Okay,” Levi said. It was just two syllables but they had the weight of something much more substantial. “I can wait some more.”  
  
“And when I say wait—” Oscar stopped, regrouped, and started over again. “Levi, if you meet someone else, that’s fine. I don’t want you to feel like you’re tied down.”

Something that was not quite a smile but very similar passed over Levi’s face. “I don’t fall in love that easily.”

 _Love._ He’d said it. Oscar had been avoiding even thinking the word, but Levi spoke it casually as though he’d confessed love a dozen times before. Of course, it wasn’t a true confession, more of a roundabout one, but—

Before Oscar could finish processing what had just occurred, Levi switched gears. “Are you okay? About your friend, I mean.”

“I’m… adequate.” Oscar was fine. After he’d cried it out, the remaining grief had absorbed into his everyday depression, as though he'd reached his capacity of sadness. Eren’s ghost, on the other hand, had felt strangely subdued. The lights, the memories, in Oscar’s mind shone brighter than ever, but everything was still so dim nonetheless. “…It was just a very bad shock.”

“What happened? Do you know?”

“Car crash.”

Levi nodded. One of his hands moved towards Oscar, but Levi aborted the motion before Oscar could make sense of it. The hand rested limply in his lap instead, where Scout had been earlier. “Tell me about him?” he asked.

So Oscar reached towards the glowing memories and told Levi all about a boy— a man— the **Captain** had once known well. With each light he brushed against, he felt something huge and indescribable gradually fade away. Like a fallen **Titan** crumbling into smoke and ash. He wasn’t sure if it was a good feeling or a bad one. But he felt it until, finally, it too had died.

* * *

Winter unfolded just as it had the year before. Oscar still sunk to extreme lows. Levi still prodded him in all the right places, nudging him toward the kitchen to eat, the bathroom to take his medication. But with all the cards on the table everything was completely different. _Tough love_ , Oscar thought to himself as Levi pushed him to dress for a trip to the park. Oscar hadn’t left the apartment all weekend and Levi was convinced he needed to get outside and walk around. Oscar couldn’t find the strength to argue, especially since Levi was probably right. _Or maybe just love._

A relationship with Levi. The concept tossed and turned in his head, over and over. Dating Levi. What would it even be like? They’d already lived together, so it wasn’t difficult at all to imagine spending the bulk of his time with Levi. Levi was already one of the most important people in his life; that wouldn’t change. What would change?

 _I could kiss him,_ Oscar thought. Levi was chopping vegetables for some sort of soup, lips spread slightly as he focused on the task with his single-minded concentration. Oscar was attempting to be helpful by dicing onion, but his own attention was split dangerously between the knife in his hand and Levi’s lips. Kissing Levi seemed like an excellent benefit to dating him. On the whole, Levi’s face wasn’t particularly expressive, but his mouth picked up the slack by conveying a wide array of emotion in every twitch. Oscar suspected he would like kissing Levi very much. He didn’t know what kind of expectations or desires Levi had for a sexual relationship with him, but it seemed safe to assume that kissing was acceptable. As for everything else— well, Oscar couldn’t think of anything he wouldn’t like to do with Levi, so long as Levi wanted it too.

 _If we dated, we’d be partners in pretty much everything._ Oscar folded towels—still warm from the dryer—in quick, automatic motions, thoughts nowhere close to laundry. It was almost too loud to think in the apartment. Levi was vacuuming and the old machine did not drone so much as roar. Scout was tracking the vacuum’s progress warily from her perch up on the TV stand, fur puffed up. But even with the noise and the task at hand, Oscar’s brain would not stop. A partnership was a comfortable thought. He knew he could rely on Levi where it counted and he hoped that Levi felt the same about him.

 _The problem,_ Oscar decided, eyes aching from the grocery’s store offensive fluorescent lighting, _is that we are both at such different points in our lives._ Levi was just starting college, the world opening up to him with dozens of different possibilities all at once. Oscar, however, was stuck in a dead-end job testing people’s piss for STDs because he didn’t have the education or the mental health necessary to rise much higher. He rubbed his pounding temple with one hand and flinched when a person passed near him. But it was just Levi slipping a bottle of aspirin into their cart between the eggs and cheese. While Levi was in both a literal and figurative time of transition and transformation, Oscar was just scrabbling around for some stability. It didn’t seem right to tie Levi to Oscar, even though the tie was in no way unbreakable and even though Levi wanted it.

 _And, fuck, what will people think?_ Oscar stared at the data in front of him, the numbers barely registering. _I’m a decade older than him. I’m way too old to be dating a college freshmen._ It wasn’t like they’d be advertising their relationship to everyone around them, but Levi didn’t like to hide either. And never mind strangers—what would his mother think? What might happen if word somehow spread around his work? Just because it was legal didn’t mean it was socially acceptable. His eyes reached to the bottom of the readout. He pinched the bridge of his nose and dragged his eyes back to the top to start over again.

 _Not to mention there’s no guarantee that Levi is as serious about this as I am._ Oscar rolled one of his prescription bottles between his hands, the pill tumbling around noisily inside. He didn’t doubt that Levi thought he was serious, but he also remembered what he and his friends were like in freshmen year of college. Everything just felt... _more_ when he was younger. More unique, more meaningful, more serious. It wasn’t until he’d gotten older that he realized there were only a few things that truly mattered for him and most other things were just transient. _Then again_ , he considered, popping the bottle open and rattling two pills into his palm. _Maybe that’s just the depression talking._

He thought and thought and thought and didn’t get anywhere.

Like the year before, they didn’t celebrate Christmas. Levi was still saving his money and Oscar still couldn’t stand the holiday. They did go to midnight mass again and they did celebrate Levi’s birthday—early, since he’d be gone at school by the time it actually rolled around. When Oscar asked what Levi wanted, Levi made the exact same request as before.

“You want pork _again_?” Oscar said, not comprehending how anyone could like a dish so much.

Levi’s mouth slid into a shape that was somewhere between an abashed grin and an unashamed smirk. “I want you to take me on a date to my favorite restaurant again.”

Oscar realized suddenly how smoothly he’d been played last year and wondered if it should bother him. Even still, they went. It was for Levi’s birthday, so he should get whatever he wanted. Not to mention that the “date” wasn’t just for Levi. There were only a few days remaining before the spring semester would begin. Oscar knew he’d miss Levi even more than before— and not just because his absence meant Oscar would have to cope with the rest of winter alone.

* * *

Oscar didn’t often get visitors at his apartment and when he did they were usually peddling something. So when someone knocked on his door the Saturday before Levi left for school again, Oscar’s first thought was Mormons and he _really_ didn’t feel like talking to anyone trying to convert him. Fortunately, Scout was spread out on Oscar’s lap in one giant excuse, so Oscar cast a wordless, pleading glance at Levi. Levi scowled, but went to answer the door anyway.

“I’m looking for Oscar,” a deep voice said, echoing into the apartment. “Is he here? Özgür Gözübüyük.”

Rarely did anyone manage the syllables of Oscar’s legal name without tripping over the umlauts and unfamiliar sounds. Oscar was rising from his seat, Scout tucked against his chest, before Levi even called for him. Oscar didn’t recognize the tall, brown-skinned man filling his doorway, but he knew the thick shape of his eyebrows, the square angles of his jaw, the broad forehead. They were his own.

“Go away,” he said, the words gritting between his clenched teeth.

“It was a very long trip,” Engin said. “Can I have five minutes?”

Oscar’s utter distaste for the situation warred with his manners. “Five,” he agreed reluctantly, moving aside so Engin could come in. And then he muttered, “I’m going to kill my mother.”

“Don’t do that,” Engin remarked lightly. He stood at the border between the entrance way and the living room, seeming far too large to fit. “I didn’t get your address from Louise. I found it online. There aren’t many people named Özgür Gözübüyük in America, you know.”

Not for the first time, Oscar regretted that he’d never changed his name. Most people were happy— relieved, even— to just call him Oscar, so he’d never seriously considered. Maybe he’d get the paperwork started once Engin left. Levi could help him.

Levi glanced between both of them, obviously putting two and two together to make four. “Should I step out?” he asked.

“Stay,” Oscar said immediately, passing Scout to Levi. “He’ll be leaving in just a bit.”

Although Oscar’s strained manners did not extend to inviting Engin to take a seat, Engin did so anyway. “Your mother warned me that you wouldn’t be happy to see me,” he said. His English, Oscar noted with an odd bite of irritation, was near perfect. “But I’m not sure what I did to make you so angry.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Oscar snapped. “You left!”

Engin’s head tilted in a gesture that appeared more dog than human. “If Louise can forgive me for it, I don’t see why you can’t.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe I’m just an asshole then.” Engin was right though, at least a little. Oscar didn’t have any substantial, personal reason to resent Engin. He didn’t even know him. His own life had never truly been made more difficult by Engin’s absence. No, what he hated was people’s insistence that Engin was a part of him. Just because half of his genes came from the man sitting in his recliner didn’t mean he was obligated to feel any connection to him.

“What did you come here for?” Oscar demanded.

Engin folded his hands neatly in his lap. The gesture seemed strangely dainty for someone so large. “Just to see you.”

“Well, you saw me. Now go.”

Engin ignored his petulant words. “You know,” he said. “My parents died many years ago and my grandparents decades before them. I have no siblings, no living aunts or uncles or cousin that I know of.” He smiled thinly, lips conveying no genuine warmth. “It’s quite likely that you are the only blood relative I have.”

“You’re a little late to try to be family,” Oscar said.

Engin’s smile widened, this time with a definite edge of amusement. “Very late,” he corrected. “I’m dying.”

Silence. For a very long moment, no one in the apartment moved. Oscar was lost, gaping at Engin and wondering what to say. Did he even need to say anything? To be honest, this revelation changed nothing. But at the same time, it felt extremely rude to tell a person that their impending death meant nothing to you.

The first sign of life didn’t come from Engin or Oscar or even Levi. It was Scout, squirming in Levi’s arms to be put down. Levi set the cat down on the floor and she darted forward to rub against Engin’s legs. He reached down to scratch her under the chin, chuckling.

At that sound, something shifted inside Oscar. He lowered his arms from their guard against his chest and asked, “What did you really come here for?”

“Curiosity, I suppose,” he answered, voice light-hearted and jovial. “My life has been good, but I’ve never accomplished anything… what is the word? Lasting?” He glanced up at Oscar, hands still attending to Scout, but Oscar didn’t respond. “My only legacy is you. I wanted to see what kind of man you’d become.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened. “Who I am doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

Once again, that low chuckle. While the last chuckle had been indulgent, this one was all condescension. “Absolutely nothing? I doubt it, Oscar.” With one last scratch under Scout’s chin, he stood up, nodded politely to Oscar and then Levi, and headed for the door.

“That’s it?” Oscar demanded in disbelief. “You’re leaving?”

“We agreed on five minutes,” Engin reminded him. He flicked his hand in what might have been a wave, then proceeded down the apartment stairs to the parking lot. “I’ve seen what I needed to see.”

“Hey!” Oscar called after him. But Engin offered no response. He got into a shiny rental car and drove off, never once looking up at where Oscar was standing, watching him go. Oscar stood there until he felt Scout brush her tail along his ankles. He scooped her up and hauled her back into the apartment before she could get too adventurous outdoors. Levi was still in the same spot, waiting for him.

“That was… interesting,” Levi said.

“I don’t even know what the hell that was,” Oscar said. “‘I’ve seen what I needed to see?’ What’s that supposed to mean? What can you see about a person in just a few minutes?”

“I had a pretty good grasp of you in about five minutes.” Oscar scowled at him, unconvinced. “Your heart is right on your sleeve,” Levi explained. “Shit, your heart is all over your entire shirt.”

“Whatever,” Oscar grumbled, throwing himself down on the couch. He should call his mother and see if she knew about Engin being sick. Instead, he covered his eyes with his arm and wondered if he was a terrible person for not caring that his father was dying.

Levi grabbed him gently by the wrist and lifted Oscar’s arm off his face so he could peer down at him. “Hey.”

“What?”

“Want to order a pizza and watch Legally Blonde?”

Oscar didn’t know if he’d ever met a more perfect person in his entire life.

* * *

Levi left again, but it was nothing like the last time. The main difference was that Levi wasn’t hurt and Oscar wasn’t wallowing, but there were other factors too. Like how open their line of communication was compared to before: no misunderstandings, no lapses, no avoidance. Levi texted Oscar every day—several times a day— about seemingly anything and everything. He knew a guy at the campus Starbucks that might be able to get him a job there. The cafeteria had served him the nastiest enchilada to ever foul his mouth. He was pretty sure he was going to declare Statistics as his major, but he wanted to think about it a while longer. And though there was no pattern to it that Oscar could discern, he called often.

“Have I told you how much I hate Stan?”

Stan, Oscar knew from several previous calls and texts, was Natalie’s boyfriend and had an uncanny ability to make an ass of himself whenever he hung around the dorm—which was apparently way too often. “Not in the last two weeks.”

Levi must have been walking around outside; Oscar could hear the breeze rustling and what sounded like some guys shouting in the background. “Well, consider this an update because apparently I hate him even more than I thought. You know what he said to me?” Levi didn’t wait for Oscar to guess. His voice dropped lower in what Oscar assumed was an imitation of Stan. “‘Why are you making people call you ‘he’ when you don’t even look like a guy?’”

While this comment did not surprise Oscar based on what little he knew about Stan, he still winced. “What’d you tell him?”

“I asked him why he had people calling him ‘he’ when he looks like a piece of shit.”

Oscar tried not to laugh since Levi was so clearly upset, but he couldn’t help it. “Did you really?”

“Yes! And then he started going on about how he was ‘just asking’ and how I need to chill and Natalie took his side, of fucking course.” Levi huffed, a Spanish swear riding out on the exhalation.

“I thought Natalie wasn’t so bad?”

“She’s not,” Levi admitted. “She tries, at least. But she thinks I’m always… what’s that saying? Making mountains?”

“Making mountains out of molehills?”

“Yeah.” The breeze noise abruptly stopped. “Do you think I’m doing that?” Levi demanded.

“I think it seems little to them because they don’t have to live with it constantly,” Oscar said, thinking of every time someone had made what they thought was just a harmless, if slightly racist, joke. “They don’t realize that all the little things pile up to make one giant thing.”

Levi was quiet so long that Oscar might’ve thought they’d been disconnected if he couldn’t still hear the guys yelling somewhere nearby. Eventually, Levi said, “I don’t know how much longer I can live with it. I’m so fucking sick of people looking at me and seeing a girl.”

Oscar wished he was there with Levi. He didn’t know what to say, but if he was there, he could’ve placed his hand on Levi’s back or held his hand. As it was, all he could do was listen. Levi had been looking into HRT to start physically transitioning—Oscar knew this for certain—but the reason why he hadn’t started was unclear. Money, Oscar guessed. He didn’t know how much it cost, but pretty much anything to do with medical care was expensive and Levi didn’t have insurance.

Oscar would’ve happily offered to pay for it, but he knew Levi wouldn’t accept.

When they finally ended the call, Oscar wondered, as he always did lately, just what he was going to do with Levi. They couldn’t stay in this relationship limbo forever. Levi deserved— they both deserved— some sort of resolution: either a yes or a no. But the question continued to just spin and spin in his head with no answer in sight. The ball was in Oscar’s court, but he didn’t know if it’d be better to keep playing or retire.

Time passed. Oscar survived another winter with body and mind intact. He still missed Levi every day and he got the feeling that Levi missed him in return. Levi didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like Oscar did, but he didn’t think Levi would text him so often if he didn’t miss him.

And when spring break came around, there was no question of whether Levi would be staying on campus.

* * *

It was good to have Levi back for spring break. Texts and phone calls weren’t even close to the reality of Levi taking up residence in the apartment. But despite being good, it was also unbelievably distracting.

Not that Levi was doing anything in particular to be distracting. He was just...too much. It was as though Oscar had been deprived of Levi for the last couple of months and now that he was here, Oscar was oversensitive to him. His mind was in overdrive. Levi would sprawl out across the couch and Oscar would imagine waking up with Levi pressed against him. Levi would smile in his small, private way and Oscar would imagine telling him _everything_ —all the secrets from the past and the present.

That morning, Levi made omelets while Oscar went through his morning routine and Oscar imagined an entire life together with Levi. Distracted by thoughts of weddings and arguments and promotions and funerals and graduations, he left the apartment and drove all the way to work before realizing he didn’t have his phone.

It wasn’t really that big of a deal. He wouldn’t die without his phone, after all. But missing it set him on edge all day. What if someone tried to reach him? What if there was an emergency? What if he missed a weather alert and got caught driving in a thunderstorm and got triggered and died in a fiery crash? That last one was extremely unlikely given how clear the sky was, but the worry nagged at him all day, fraying his edges until he felt more like an old sweater than a human being.

Oscar didn’t relax until he safely stepped foot into his apartment again. But his relief didn’t last long. Levi was waiting for him, phone in hand.

“Someone named Alexis _really_ wants to talk to you,” he said and Oscar felt the blood drain from his face. “She called three times, left a voice mail, and…” He glanced at the phone’s screen. “Sent a dozen texts.”

Oscar snatched his phone from Levi’s hand. “You didn’t read them, did you?” he demanded. Levi shook his head, momentarily silenced by Oscar’s overreaction. Sure enough, the display said 12 unread messages.

“Who’s Alexis?” Levi asked, peering at him suspiciously.

Oscar huffed and stuffed his phone away into his pocket, wishing he could somehow do the same with Levi’s question. “What does it matter?”

“Well, I honestly didn’t give a fuck until you started acting all weird. And I’ve never heard you mention someone called Alexis before.”

He was being unreasonable, he knew. It wasn’t like Levi didn’t already know he was sick. He rubbed at his eyes with his fingertips, wishing he was in bed already. “She’s my counselor from college,” he said. “She helps me with my…” He waved one hand in a loose gesture towards his head. “The PTSD. And other stuff.”

Levi’s eyes widened just a bit in surprise. “Oh.” And then a moment later, his eyes narrowed again. “You still talk to her?”

Oscar chuckled darkly. “Well, I didn’t magically get better just because I graduated, did I? I’m not legally her patient or anything, but I’m more comfortable talking with her than any of the other people I’ve seen since she was there for all of it.”

Levi’s head tilted ever so slightly to one side. “What do you mean ‘all of it?’ How could she have been there for it?”

Fuck. Oscar’s heart stuttered and he felt an uncomfortable, almost sweltering heat travel up his back. Fuck. He’d said far too much. He could try to pretend he’d misspoken—but no, Levi had already caught his strained expression. He could deflect—no, no, that would only make Levi more suspicious. Fuck.

There was only one thing he could do.

He clenched and unclenched his hands, staring down at his feet where Scout was weaving a figure eight between his legs, hoping for a treat. His mind latched onto this—anything to delay the inevitable—and he went to the kitchen to open a can of tuna for her, with both the cat and Levi on his heels.

“Oscar, what does that mean?” he asked again.

Oscar refused to look up at him, preoccupying himself with the tuna and the can opener. Scout, smelling the upcoming fish, meowed loudly in anticipation, demanding that Oscar go faster. For some reason, he was having a hard time working the can opener and it took him a few times to lift the lid off. Finally he managed it and Oscar plunked the tuna on the floor for Scout. She dove into it eagerly, scarfing it down like she’d been starved for weeks. There. At least someone would be happy with him tonight.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said to Levi, not looking up from Scout just yet. “There’s… I lied to you.”

“Oscar. Sit down,” Levi said, voice firm. Oscar’s head snapped up in confusion. “Sit.”

He sank into the nearest kitchen chair, lost. Levi retrieved a tall glass from the cabinet and then filled it with water. It wasn’t until Levi set the glass in front of him and Oscar reached for it that he saw his hands were shaking. Oh. He drank the water, careful not to spill, and realized that his throat was parched dry. How had Levi known?

“Do you need anything?” Levi asked, hovering close by. “Your blanket?”

Oscar shook his head, clearing it of a fog he hadn’t realized was clouding him. “I wasn’t in the army,” he blurted, needing to get those first, hardest words out. “I let you think I was because explaining seemed too hard, but…” His voice trailed off, becoming quieter and quieter so that Levi had to lean in to catch the words. He’d have to think of an explanation for Lien later, but for now he just needed to come as clean as possible. “Everything started my last semester of college.”

In halting sentences, Oscar outlined everything he could about what had happened— the very beginning when he thought he’d lost his mind, the struggle to finish and graduate, hiding the extent of his condition the summer afterwards, leaving for graduate school, _leaving_ graduate school. By the time Oscar began talking about his weeks in the psych ward, Levi had pulled a chair over and sat down, close enough that their knees were almost touching. Elsewhere, they _were_ touching— Levi’s arm was around his back, not quite holding him but close enough that Oscar couldn’t resist the need to lean some of his weight onto him. He could feel Levi breathing and used it as a baseline for his own breaths.

He’d never talked to anyone about the ward before— not his mother, not Chloe, not even Alexis— so his storytelling became more non-linear and less coherent until finally Levi said, “All right. I get the idea. You weren’t in the army.”

Oscar nodded tiredly, relieved to no longer be talking.

“But, Oscar… what happened?” Levi asked. “Because, PTSD, that doesn’t come out of nowhere, right?”

Oscar wondered what happened too. Neither Alexis, Lien, nor Holly struggled with memories the way Oscar did. Oh, they had nightmares sometimes and occasionally an unpleasant memory would suddenly push its way to the forefront of their mind and jar them, but that was it. Oscar didn’t understand what made him so different. It seemed arrogant to believe that their suffering hadn’t somehow been as sufficient as his. Perhaps it was a **Titan Shifter** thing. He could contact Hassan Medjdoub and ask him, but he really didn’t want to talk to him unless it became absolutely necessary.

“I… can’t explain it.” Levi looked disappointed, but didn’t push. “Not right now, anyway,” he amended. Because if Levi was still around, still with Oscar by the time he finally reached the past memories, Oscar would explain it all properly. Explain everything. _And God,_ Oscar thought, turning a little to face Levi. _I hope he’s still around._ He didn’t know when the **Captain** died. Maybe he’d lived peacefully in a cottage after the war and died in his sleep at the ripe, old age of eighty. But it didn’t really matter how long it took. Oscar wanted Levi with him always, no matter what.

_No matter what._

Oh. _Oh._ There it was. His answer. Was everything really that simple?

Faced with the enormity of how badly he wanted it, wanted Levi to stay, Oscar leaned forward to bury his face into Levi’s shoulder and mumbled, “All right.”

Levi had stiffened a little when Oscar pressed into him—more surprise than discomfort, it seemed, because after a moment he relaxed and reached up hesitantly to cup his hand around the back of Oscar’s neck. “All right?” he repeated.

“I want to try. With you,” Oscar said. And then, grinning ruefully into Levi’s shoulder, he added, “I know I’m a mess sometimes, but will you stay with me, Levi?”

“You’re not a—” Levi stopped, pushing Oscar back gently to separate them. “Are you sure? Right now, you’re kind of… maybe you should wait until a little later before you decide.”

“I’m fine,” Oscar assured him, a tiny pinprick of annoyance jabbing him momentarily. He wondered if that was anything like how Levi had felt when he’d said _You’re eighteen_. Then again, he’d probably earned Levi’s doubt when he’s poured out his tangled mess of feelings at Levi’s feet after just barely coming down from panicked, desperate sobbing. “Tired, but I promise I’m thinking clearly. I’m not going to change my mind.”

He took Levi’s nearest hand, weaving his fingers between Levi’s slender ones. “You’re fully capable of making important decisions. I know that. Whether it turns out to be a good choice or a bad one, it’s your right to decide for yourself.” He’d always known this, he realized. He’d never felt like a creep for liking Levi because _he_ thought Levi wasn’t experienced or wise enough. He felt like a creep because he knew other people would think Levi wasn’t. Well, fuck them. They didn’t know Levi, or Oscar for that matter. And it wasn’t anyone’s business but theirs anyway. He wanted this and Levi said he did too, and if it made either of them the least bit happier then it would be worth everything else. “If you want to take a chance on me, then I want to take a chance on you.”

Levi was staring down at their joined hands, face unreadable. Oscar rubbed the back of his hand firmly with his thumb and Levi glanced up through his eyelashes. Oscar smiled at him and the corner of Levi’s mouth loosened to bring his lips up into his own little smile. Squeezing Oscar’s hand once, Levi said, “That wasn’t romantic at all.”

Oscar blinked and then laughed, his entire body light and airy. “I’m sorry? I could do it over again, if you like. I didn’t realize you wanted romance.”

“I don’t _want_ it, I just kind of expected different from someone who watches so many sappy movies.”

Oscar shook his head, still laughing, and leaned forward to press a kiss to that quirked corner of Levi’s mouth. He’d meant it to be quick, but Levi gripped the back of his neck to hold Oscar in place and angled his own head slightly to fit his lips over Oscar’s. That was fine. Great, actually. Because Levi’s mouth was warm and soft and pretty good at kissing and probably had dozens of other traits that Oscar’s brain was just a little too busy to catalogue at the moment. Levi stroked the back of his neck and Oscar swore Levi was humming.

Before long, Oscar realized that he’d forgotten to breathe through his nose and he had to pull away for a moment for some air. From this close up, Levi’s eyes were on fire, dazzling with a brilliant light that almost hurt to look at. Oscar didn’t want to look away either though. Leaning his forehead against Levi’s, he held onto Levi’s bright gaze. “We’re gonna have to talk,” Oscar told him. “About what both of us want and don’t want. What we like and don’t like.”

Levi had both arms over Oscar’s shoulders now, the fingers of one hand sneaking up from his neck and into his hair. “Well, to start off, I’d like to keep kissing you. And I don’t want to do it in kitchen chairs, they’re fucking uncomfortable.” He smiled his small, private smile and Oscar wondered why he’d ever stopped kissing that mouth. “Maybe later, I’ll want to eat something. I haven’t had dinner yet, have you?”

Oscar chuckled. “Okay, we can do that. But I’m serious, you know.”

“I don’t have a problem with it. It sounds like a good idea,” Levi said, standing slowly and drawing Oscar with him towards the living room. “But can we not do it right now? I’ve had enough of serious conversations for the night.”

So they held off on it for the moment. And it wasn’t until they finished kissing, finished eating, finished kissing _again_ , and finished getting ready for bed that Oscar remembered what had started the whole night and checked his phone.

The dozen plus messages Alexis had left were variations on the same theme, excited and frantic and stunned all at once.

Alexis had seen Mikasa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr : zhedang.tumblr.com  
> twitter : twitter.com/zhe1dang3
> 
> Soooo much time passes in this chapter. Like, it runs from about June to March? Most likely even more time will be passing in the next chapter. I can't say for certain because I haven't started writing it yet, but the next chapter may be the last full chapter. It depends on how much it ends up stretching out. But I think Part Three can be finished in two parts and this was the first part you read right here. After Part Three, there will be a short epilogue and then TROTL will be all done! 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think! I love comments~.


	6. PART THREE (2/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which recovery is not linear and, to be honest, few things really are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ADDITIONAL CONTENT WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: Needles and injection, for medicinal purpose, not drug use. Also some vomiting, though it's brief and not very vivid. Shoot me a message on tumblr (zhedang) if you have any questions.
> 
> Hey, y'all. It's been a while. Unfortunately, I've been pretty busy. I originally planned to write Part Three in two sections, but that quickly proved impossible. So instead, we are getting three sections. Which means that after this, we only have the final section of Part Three and then the epilogue. Hopefully chapter 7 won't take forever like 6 did!
> 
> I am Typo King of Typo City, so... yeah. I'm hoping I at least caught most of the errors.

**PART THREE (2/3)**

Devil Next Door was a Taiwanese drama about an outspoken high school girl who moves into a small town and meets the most terrible boy in the world at her new school. Of course, the boy is also exceedingly handsome and by sheer coincidence he lives right next door. Wacky shenanigans and unresolved romantic tension ensue. All in all, it was a familiar but entertaining premise, though the writing relied on plot contrivances too often for Oscar’s taste. He supposed that the main draw for most viewers was the two lead actors, both of them apparently famous pop idols in Taiwan.

That was not why Oscar watched the series.

The “devil” had a little sister who was convinced her big brother and neighbor were destined soul mates and plotted to force them to interact with each other. Although she did not appear in every episode, she was a reoccurring cast member and the character received a decent amount of screen time for a child actor. According to the fan forum Oscar found through furious Google-ing, the little sister was played by Kuo Jiahua. She was seven years old, her hobbies included tennis and dancing, and Devil Next Door was her first major role. It frustrated Oscar to no end that this was all he could find out about her.

“My oldest daughter loves these shows,” Alexis had explained. “She never watches the TV, but she’s always watching these on her laptop. I was just walking by when I saw her on the screen.”

Mikasa. Mikasa was alive.

In the absence of further information, Oscar watched every episode of Devil Next Door that Kuo Jiahua appeared in several times over and hunted down all the cast photos and interviews he could find. Jiahua never did interviews—he supposed because of her age— but sometimes the other actors would talk about her. Fortunately, the show was popular enough that fans translated and subtitled the episodes and most of the extra materials. Oscar was still seriously considering learning Mandarin though.

 _Spanish is more useful here,_ Levi pointed out when Oscar idly texted him wondering how long Levi thought it would take to learn Mandarin. Levi was bemused by Oscar’s sudden obsession with the show. However, he thought most of Oscar’s media choices were odd, so he didn’t question it.

As useful as Spanish may be in the United States, Oscar had never been particularly interested in learning. But it had not escaped Oscar’s notice that Levi tended to default to Spanish on two different occasions: when he was upset or when he spoke to Oscar very, _very_ gently. More than once, Oscar had desperately wanted to understand what Levi was saying.

 _Maybe I’ll learn both,_ Oscar texted back.

He imported the first season of Devil Next Door, pre-ordered the second, and invested in a new DVD player that wasn’t region-locked. On bad nights when he woke up feeling like a stranger lost in his own body, he put in a disc and watched an episode. Though it was odd to see Mikasa so young, it soothed the sharp pinpricks where Eren Yeager’s memories blazed.

Still, it was far from enough. In a way, knowing where she was and being unable to speak with her was harder to bear than being unsure she even existed. He confessed this to Alexis, feeling like a complete ass for being so greedy when he should be grateful he’d even managed to find Eren’s sister in a world of seven billion people.

“Why don’t you try writing to her?” she suggested.

“Like… fan mail?” He didn’t think Jiahua could read English and he doubted she’d even recognize the language from within the Walls. Not yet. As for writing it in Mandarin, it'd probably be easier to fly to the moon.

“No, like a diary, but to Mikasa,” Alexis clarified, voice warbling a little through the phone’s poor connection.

Oscar thought it was a silly idea, but it took root in his head and he found himself mentally composing scraps of letters until finally one night he grabbed a pen and an old notebook and started writing.

~~**Dear** ~~

He scratched out **Dear** though because he didn’t know if he should follow it with Mikasa or Jiahua.

**I'm trying to be okay just knowing you are alive and doing well, but it's not working very well. You're not reading this and maybe you never will, but I have to do something before I lose my grip.**

**I don’t know what exactly ~~I~~**

He scratched out the **I** furiously.

 **I don’t know what exactly** Eren **wants to talk to you about. There’s something you should know though.** Armin **is dead.**

He pressed the pen into the characters for **dead** so hard that a blot of ink devoured half of the word. Some of the ink smeared onto his fingers like blood and he stared at his hands, suddenly consumed by the wish that Levi was with him now instead of at school.

He gave up on letter writing—for the night, at least. He’d try again another time.

* * *

 

Chloe was the easiest person to tell about dating Levi since she already knew the possibility was up in the air. She had her misgivings, but she wished them good luck anyway. Oscar got the sense she thought it couldn't possibly last, though she didn't actually say anything to that effect.

When Oscar finally worked up the nerve to tell his mother, Louise was quiet a moment and then sighed. “I told you to be careful with him, didn’t I?”

She had, but Oscar hadn’t known what she meant then, nor did he understand better now. “…Yeah?”

Sternly, she admonished him, “Don’t you dare break his heart, Özgür Gözübüyük.”

“What about my heart?” Oscar protested.

“You’ve been around a while longer. You should know how to guard your own heart by now.”

Oscar thought Levi was already well-versed in heart guarding, but he didn’t argue. Louise had a better sense for those kinds of vulnerabilities than he did, so perhaps she was right about Levi. “I don’t intend to break his heart.”

“People rarely do,” Louise said. She sounded distant. Oscar wondered if she was thinking of Engin, Dan, or some other lover of hers. Maybe she was thinking about Lisa. Recollecting herself, she added, “He’s very young for you.”

“I know.” There was no getting around this simple fact. Levi was old in some ways—his practicality, his work ethic, his autonomy—but he was still young. But Oscar was young in some ways himself. He had never faced rejection from his own family, had not once set out into the world without a support network to fall back on. And when he was worn down, he sometimes became so petulant that he could rival a toddler.

The law drew a line in the sand because a line needed to be drawn somewhere. But “adult” wasn’t really an age so much as it was a set of experiences and behaviors. Levi was adult enough for Oscar and the law was on his side. That was good enough for him, though things really would be easier if Levi were at least a few years older.

“He makes you happy,” Louise said, factual and without even a hint of inquiry.

“Yes.”

“All right.” Louise exhaled slowly in that world weary manner only mothers could accomplish and then said, “Be _careful_ , Oscar.”

After his mother and Chloe, there was no one else whose opinion truly mattered to Oscar. He hung out with Vivian fairly regularly and occasionally some other people from work, but he didn’t feel any need to tell them. Vivian found out eventually though. She tried to set him up with some friends of hers and when he declined on the basis of already seeing someone, she demanded details.

Oscar’s life was already tangled up with enough lies, so he told her, “I'm dating Levi.”

She stared at him blankly for a moment, but then her eyes widened in recognition. “Your roommate? The cheerleader?” He nodded. “What— god, how old is he?”

“Nineteen.”

“And how long have you…?”

“Just a little under a month.”

Vivian’s mouth contorted in a strange shape, lips spreading to speak before being pressed together. She crossed her arms firmly over her chest, straightening to her full height. Finally, she said, “That’s kind of creepy, Oscar.”

“Trust me, I know it seems creepy.” He rubbed the back of his neck, wanting to defend himself to her while simultaneously feeling like he should not have to. He wasn't ashamed of dating Levi, but he knew how strange it seemed from the outside. “We both gave it a lot of thought before starting— he's actually the one who brought it up in the first place. If I thought… if I thought it would be bad for him, I wouldn’t have agreed.”

Vivian fixed him with a piercing gaze, seeming eight feet tall despite barely clocking in at five foot four. He refused to back down though and eventually she relented. “I can only believe that because it's you, you know.” She canted her hips, unfolding her arms to rest a hand on her hip. “It’s still kind of creepy. But I guess I’ll tell Ty no.”

And that was it. Things were awkward for a while, but as far as Oscar could tell she hadn't told anyone at the lab and eventually they both moved on.

Besides people’s reactions, Oscar discovered that the main problem with dating someone in college after you’d already graduated was that they were in college. That meant weeks and weeks of not seeing Levi at all while he was off at school. Oscar supposed he could drive out to the campus on some weekends, but Levi was perpetually busy. He’d gotten the job at Starbucks, _and_ he’d joined a few different clubs, _and_ the intramural soccer team was apparently trying to recruit him.

“I like track better than soccer,” Levi said, offhandedly. “There’s no intramural track though. And I could use the exercise.”

 _Do you have the time?_ Oscar wondered, though he didn’t say anything since Levi would interpret it as a challenge.

He remembered how busy he’d been in college—it wasn’t _that_ long ago— but Oscar could hardly comprehend it now. Work consumed the bulk of his day, with barely enough left over for sleeping, eating, and other self-care. It wasn’t the hours work ate up that left him with such a deficit. It was the energy. After he got home from work, he had the time to do things, but simply not enough motivation.

It wouldn’t have bothered him much a few years ago. Just six years ago, having the emotional and mental fortitude for working full-time had seemed like a pipe dream. But now he was itching to move on to bigger and better things—mainly, giving graduate school another shot. But it just didn’t seem possible to go to school part-time while still working full-time. Even a single class each semester felt like it’d be too much. If he stopped working full-time though, he probably wouldn’t be able to afford tuition, not to mention his prescriptions. Another fucking catch-22.

It just— it just frustrated him. He wanted so much to do more, to be more, to leave the confinements of his illness. He wanted—he _needed_ to live in a world without walls.

Sometimes, he felt so much like Eren Yeager that he wondered if Oscar had even ever really existed.

* * *

 

 **I know you can't answer this because you don't remember, but I wonder. When you do remember, will you hate** Mikasa **? Will she tear you apart like** Eren **did to me?**

 **I asked** Alexis **about it** , **but she does not remember** Mina **very clearly. Not like how I remember. I never asked** Lien **because she’s really just a stranger to** Eren **as well as me. I guess I could ask** Holly **, but… she’s just so obviously fine. If I asked, all it would accomplish is making her worry about me. I still have** Hassan’s **information, but whenever I even think about contacting him it… messes me up. He makes me so angry, even though I do not have a reason to be angry at him.**

 **Sometimes I worry about** Levi **. The Captain lived through so many terrible things that I am sure remembering will be at least as horrible for him as it was for me.**

 **Even still, I want him to remember. I need him to. Or maybe** Eren **does. Does that make me—him?—a terrible person?**

* * *

 

Near the end of April, Louise called Oscar with news: Engin was dead.

Despite his prior conviction that Engin’s death would mean nothing to him, Oscar discovered that this was not quite the case. He did feel something. Not a sense of loss, but… something. It took him a sleepless night of contemplation before he realized what it was—an odd kind of sadness. Not sadness over Engin himself, but sadness for _Oscar_.

When faced with the loss of Carla, Eren Yeager had raged and wept whole-heartedly. The circumstances surrounding Grisha’s death hadn’t allowed for the same depth of emotion, but he’d still grieved. Oscar, however, couldn’t even summon a teaspoon of melancholy over Engin’s passing.

The sadness wasn’t his. It belonged to Eren’s ghost.

Oscar smothered the foreign feeling with work and mindfulness exercises until it finally went away.

About three weeks later, Oscar received an unexpected package in the mail. Upon examining it, he realized that the return address was somewhere in Turkey and was sorely tempted to stuff it into the trash. For the next two days, the package sat on his kitchen table as he debated whether or not to open it. Finally, he told Levi about it and Levi told him to stop being ridiculous.

“How are you going to decide what to do with it if you don’t know what’s inside? Just open it.”

So, phone balanced precariously on one shoulder, Oscar opened the package and withdrew its contents: a rather formal letter from the executor of Engin’s will, a note from Engin himself, and a wooden box with no lock or hinges.

“What’s the letter say?” Levi asked.

Oscar scanned the executor’s letter, chipping away at its lengthy and stiff legal language until he unearthed the message. “Nothing, really. Just that his will instructed that the note and box were to be sent to me.”

“What about his note?”

He tore open the envelope, unfolded the piece of stationary inside, and read the note aloud. “My father— your grandfather— was a carpenter. He made this for your grandmother shortly after they married. It would not be worth much to anyone outside of the family. I am leaving it to you because I know you will not throw it away.”

Oscar examined the box again. It did appear handmade, though the person who constructed it clearly knew what they were doing. The box was made from softwood— juniper, he suspected— and a simple, stylized wolf was craved into the top. Three of the sides were carved with loose loops and whorls that suggested flowers while the last was composed of a row of columns. Oscar shook the box and pried at its edges, but could not find a way to open it short of smashing the thing open. Tempted as he was to destroy the box just to spite Engin’s assertion that he wouldn’t throw it away, he knew he’d regret it. And if his mother found out he’d done such a thing, she’d be pissed.

“This box is weird,” he reported. “I can tell it is hollow when I tap it, but there’s no way inside.”

“It’s probably a puzzle box. You have to press or slide certain things to find the way in,” Levi explained.

Oscar looked at the unassuming box skeptically. “That sounds like way too much trouble. Why would you give something like that to your wife?”

Levi didn’t answer his question. Instead, he posed one of his own. “What are you going to do with it?”

Oscar didn’t know. The curious part of Oscar that drove him into the sciences wanted to find out what was inside. But the rest of him bristled at Engin’s coyness. First that enigmatic visit and now this mystery box. He’d never particularly wanted anything to do with the paternal side of his family, but now Engin was dangling scraps in front of his face, trying to entice Oscar into pursuing his legacy.

Well, Oscar wasn’t going for the bait. Engin was right; he wasn’t heartless enough to toss the box into the garbage. But he wouldn’t pay any attention to it either. So he buried the box in the dark depths of the coat closet and did his best to put it out of mind. With Levi coming home for the summer in just a few more weeks, forgetting was easy enough to do.

* * *

 

Something touched his shoulder and he bolted upright, heart thudding in his rib cage so hard it felt like a sledgehammer. His eyes darted around the room looking for— looking for— _something_. He didn't know. Whatever it was, he couldn't find it and that made his breath hitch. Something was missing and that meant there was something terribly wrong with this world.

Beside him, a voice spoke. His eyes jerked and latched onto the **Captain** beside him, propped up on his elbows with a concerned pinch to his brow. " **Where is it**?" he demanded.

But the **Captain** didn't answer him. "English," he said, a long stress on the word.

English? He repeated the sound. It felt awkward in his mouth. Out of place, though not entirely foreign, like a stone in a tilled field.

"Yes, English. Come on, Oscar. Look at where you are."

The light shifted as a cloud obscuring the lazy morning sun passed and the room brightened by just a few shades. It was enough for him to recognize the place. The sheets tangled around his feet were from a set he'd paid way too much for, the pale blue ones he hated and only used in summer because they were too light for any other time of year.

He ran these minute details through his head, then shifted his attention to the small dent in the nightstand, and after that the alarm clock's stark, glowing numbers. His bedroom. Oscar's bedroom.

He was Oscar.

“Oh,” he breathed, his entire body sagging.

"You were talking in your sleep. You sounded scared," Levi— not the **Captain** , Levi— explained. He was still propped up on his elbows, though the safe distance he'd previously set between them had shrunken now that Oscar wasn't panicked.

Oscar scrubbed at his eyes, removing tiny flakes of crust from their corners. "What was I saying?"

"I couldn't understand you."

Oh. Oscar tried to chase after the dream, but it was a useless exercise. Already the details were dissipating. All that remained with Oscar was the taste of blood in his mouth and the impression that he hadn't been alone.

He checked the alarm clock— half an hour before he had to get up— and sank back down into his pillow. Levi lowered himself too, still watching him with that pinched expression. Oscar wanted to reach out and smooth it, so he did, pressing one thumb gently between Levi's eyebrows. "I'm okay," he murmured, fright trickling away to leave behind exhaustion in his bones. Starting off with a nightmare did not bode well for the rest of the day. "Thank you for waking me."

Levi leaned into his hand ever so slightly, head heavy. Oscar was on his back, but Levi was lying on his belly, naked shoulders bared by the low sheet. Oscar sleepily catalogued the tiny moles leading from Levi’s right shoulder to his neck, unsure if it was supposed to be a mindfulness exercise, something akin to counting sheep, or just plain admiration. Under the morning’s gentle glow, Levi looked especially handsome. Not seeing any reason why he shouldn’t do so, Oscar told him that.

He didn’t see Levi’s blush so much as he felt it, his cheeks heating Oscar’s fingertips. “Only grandmas say ‘handsome,’” he said, tone purposefully distasteful.

Oscar wasn’t fooled. He grinned and received a half-hearted glare in return, which only made him grin more. Levi ducked away from his hand and buried his face against the pillow. He muttered something in Spanish that was either a term of endearment or an insult. Possibly both. Oscar was still trudging through things like “ _¿Podría llamar a un médico, por favor?”_ and “ _¿Dónde puedo reclamar mi equipaje?”_ in the online course he was taking. Sadly, his Mandarin was progressing even slower.

“So what if it’s a grandma word?” Oscar asked the back of Levi’s head. “I think it’s a perfectly good word for you.”

“You’re biased. And you have shit taste,” Levi retorted. The words weren’t quite sharp enough to conceal his fond tone.

But Oscar was distracted, remembering a hot night about two years ago— damn, had it really only been two years? _“Levi is a perfectly good name for a guy like you.”_

Oscar shuffled across the mattress so that his head was parallel with Levi’s on the pillow. “Hey. Can I ask you a personal question?”

Levi shifted so he could peer at Oscar with one eye. “Yeah.”

Even with permission, it felt like a dangerous topic to broach. Levi guarded everything about his life prior to meeting Oscar like a wild animal refusing care for a wound. Still, the question had lingered all this time and Oscar had never gotten anywhere close to an answer. So he asked, “Why Levi?” Levi stared at him and he found himself rambling. “I thought, at first, maybe you were angry at your parents and wanted to distance yourself from your background, but you kept your surnames, so—”

“—That would’ve been pointless. I’m Mexican.” He frowned, browns coming together. “I mean, I was born here. But my parents are Mexican and I grew up in neighborhoods that were mostly Mexican and I spent most of my summers in Mexico… a name wouldn’t change any of that.” He rolled over onto his side so he could face Oscar properly, one hand setting in a loose grip on Oscar’s nearest forearm. “Besides, I’m proud of who I am.”

“I know that now,” Oscar said, though Levi summering in Mexico was news. “But still, out of all the names in the world, why Levi? Did you just like it?” Perhaps Levi had been drawn to the name the same way Oscar felt compelled to keep things tidy.

Levi examined him with a long, tired gaze. Then he closed the gap between them to lay his head against Oscar’s shoulder, throwing his arm over him.

“When I was six,” he began. “I started working for Mrs. Rosenhaus next door. After I got home from school, I’d go over to her apartment and help her with chores.” His sigh rumbled in Oscar's ear. “She probably figured out that I was home alone until my mom got back around eight and decided hiring me for housekeeping would be less offensive than telling my parents they needed to get a sitter. A lot of the time, I’d go over there and she wouldn’t have anything for me to do, so we’d play rummy or she’d help me with my homework.”

He fell silent, mouth slackening in a small way that Oscar knew meant he was recalling something. When Levi failed to speak for several moments, Oscar murmured sleepily, “She sounds nice.”

The arm Levi had wound around Oscar’s torso tightened slightly. “She was the first person that I ever told I was a boy who didn’t laugh at me or tell me I was wrong or…” Levi turned his face into Oscar’s shoulder. “I told her and she just nodded, not even surprised or anything, and said, ‘You remind me of my son Levi.’”

Oscar’s heart stuttered and he was suddenly wide awake again. Surely not. It was just a coincidence. There were probably thousands of nice, old ladies in the world with sons named Levi.

But… maybe. Everyone had a mother, even the **Captain**.

“We moved away when I was nine,” Levi finished, face still partially hidden. “But I always remembered that. It meant a lot to me.”

Oscar stroked the feathery hair on the back of Levi’s head. He wanted to trade one of his secrets in return for what Levi had just told him, but he couldn’t think of anything he hadn’t already told Levi that wouldn't make him sound completely delusional. So finally he said, “I used to know a man named Levi.”

Levi peered at him, clearly glad to be discussing anything besides his past. “Yeah? What was he like?”

Oscar started with the bit he knew Levi would like best. “Shorter than you.”

“Really?”

“By about three inches.”

“A cis guy? Did you know?” Levi asked.

“Yeah, he was.”

Levi's mouth twitched ever so slightly with smug satisfaction. “What else?”

“Really brave. And tough, tougher than anyone else. A lot of people thought he was scary and he could be, but he was kind too.”

Levi sat up again, narrowing his eyes at him. “You had a crush on him, didn’t you? You sound like it.”

Startled, Oscar actually had to take a moment to think about it. “I think I did,” he answered slowly as he cautiously considered the tone of Eren's memories instead of just the facts. He never liked looking too deep into the lights because it always made him feel lost. “At least at some point.”

“Hm,” Levi grunted, and then he swung one leg over Oscar to climb on top of him and pressed a wet kiss to the ticklish part of his neck.

Oscar laughed and swatted at him. “Are you seriously jealous? This was ages ago.”

“Not jealous,” Levi muttered, breath hot against the now damp skin of Oscar's neck. Oscar shivered and Levi laid a trail of kisses leading to the underside of his jaw. “Just—” But the rest of it was Spanish and Oscar couldn't understand.

“You realize I have to start getting ready in—” He broke off to moan quietly when Levi shifted his weight to settle his lower half more firmly against Oscar's.

“Yeah, twenty minutes, I know,” Levi said. “So work with me here.”

Oscar decided he could lend him a hand.

* * *

 

Summer always ended too fast. Before he knew it, Levi was packed off to school for his second year and Oscar was alone at the apartment again.

Chloe, a few days after proclaiming that they hadn’t hung out in _forever_ , showed up on his doorstep with a bottle of white wine for herself and a four-pack of fancy craft soda for Oscar.

“Unless you want wine, ‘cause I’ll share. Are you still not drinking?”

“I mean, I can drink,” Oscar said, examining the wine’s ornate label. Chloe had a habit of picking alcohol based on the bottle’s appearance, regardless of its actual quality. “It’ll fuck with my stomach though. Unless I push back my med time, but that can fuck with my head.”

“Well, these sodas are pretty good. Rob practically worships them.”

After Chloe finished cooing over Scout and petting her, they ordered delivery from the town’s only decent Indian restaurant and started marathoning Jem and the Holograms on Netflix. Chloe gleefully pointed out each character’s fundamental lack of common sense until she was laughing so much from her own jokes that she couldn’t speak. Oscar split his attention between her, the TV, and his phone.

_whats that movie with the hot white soccer coach_

Oscar frowned, trying to think what soccer movie Levi could’ve possibly watched with him. _You mean Bend it like Beckham?_

As The Misfit’s musical number for the episode played, Oscar’s phone lit up with: _thats it_

Aghast, Oscar quickly tapped out a reply. _Jonathan Rhys Meyer is NOT hot, wtf. He looks like an alien!_

_were gonna hafta agree to disagree_

“Is that Levi?” Chloe asked. “Your face is all goofy, I'm embarrassed for you.”

Oscar glanced at her, raising an eyebrow at how she was flopped sideways over the couch and watching the TV upside down. “You’re goofy.”

Chloe straightened so that she was at least halfway upright. “When are you going to see him?”

“Probably not until Thanksgiving.”

“Oscar!” Chloe cried, so distraught that it actually startled him, though he managed to not leap out of his seat. “It’s barely October!”

Oscar rubbed his chest just over his heart as though that could soothe its erratic beating. “We don’t see each other much during the semester,” he explained, “Not at all, really.”

Chloe gaped at him. “Not at all? _Oscar_.”

“What?”

But she just shook her head in commiseration. “I could never do a long distance relationship. Don't you worry he might cheat on you or something?”

“Not particularly. Honestly, if he was considering it, he'd probably tell me. Levi hates lying.” Not to mention they'd already worked out that if Levi just wanted to fool around with someone once or twice, it was fine with Oscar so long as Levi let him know first. Levi hadn't taken him up on the offer yet though.

“You get lonely though, don't you?” Chloe demanded.

“Yeah, but college is important to Levi. I don't want to distract him. Besides, it's only a few years.”

Chloe stared at him, television all but forgotten now. “You really think it'll last that long?”

Behind her, the end credits began to roll. Oscar picked up the remote and selected the next episode. “I hope it does.”

Because Levi was well worth the distance. Since they'd decided to give dating a shot back in the spring, everything had been... well, not perfect. Far from that. But so much better that everything _seemed_ perfect. Even when he had to settle for just texting and phone calls, the days passed by easier than they ever had before Levi. It was just good having someone to call his, someone he could split his troubles and triumphs with.

So, yes, as Oscar counted down the weeks until winter break, he did miss having Levi nearby. But that didn't mean he ever regretted it.

* * *

 

Levi called his name from the bedroom, with an exhausted sounding “Help,” trailing after it. Oscar found him sitting cross-legged on the bed, half-out of his binder and face flushed pink with either exertion or embarrassment. “I’m stuck,” he said.

“Stuck?” Levi had managed to free one of his arms from its sleeve, but not the other. The fabric was bunched up tight just beneath his collar bone. “What should I do? Is it supposed to be going up or down?”

“Up. Help me get it over my head without dislocating my fucking shoulder.”

Oscar located the bottom of the binder and tugged it upward. But it seemed like the harder he pulled, the more it clung to Levi, like a paper finger trap. “How did you get into this?” Oscar asked, equal parts impressed and horrified.

“With every ounce of hate I’ve got,” Levi grunted, trying to wiggle his trapped arm loose.

“And you didn’t take that as a bad sign?”

“It’s new. They’re usually hard to put on the first time.” He stopped struggling for a moment and huffed. “I haven’t ordered from this company before, so I might’ve gotten the size wrong.”

Oscar gave up on trying to tug it up from the bottom and instead pulled the bunched-up fabric back down into place. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to get it off while turning it inside out,” he explained. “Let me try pulling it off from the top.” It was a maneuver that Levi wouldn’t have been able to manage on his own. Sure enough, after some yanking and wrenching and cursing, Levi was finally able to slither out.

Oscar chucked the binder into the dirty laundry hamper and Levi collapsed onto the bed. “I’m so fucking tired of this shit,” he muttered, catching the t-shirt Oscar threw towards him. He sat up again with a groan and slipped the shirt on before flopping back down on the mattress.

Oscar changed for bed too, shivering a little. He needed to talk to the landlord about the heat. He swore it worked better than this last year. Scout, apparently also chilly, had curled up on his laptop’s keyboard. He shooed her off before shutting it down for the night. Oscar was brushing his teeth when Levi appeared in the bathroom doorway.

“I need to ask you about something,” he said.

With his foaming toothbrush still crammed in his mouth, all Oscar could do was raise one eyebrow.

Levi learned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and shoulders hunched inwards. “I’ve looked around online…” he started. His eyes flicked from Oscar to the floor and then back to him. When he spoke again, his voice was a little louder. “And there aren’t any gender therapists in this city. But there’s two close enough to campus that I could take the bus or get a ride from someone.”

Ah. Oscar spat his toothpaste into the sink. “That’s good,” he said, for lack of anything else to say. Levi clearly wasn’t done yet.

Levi nodded, unclasping his arms to run a hand through his buzzed hair. “I wanted… I wanted to wait until I could afford it on my own. With class and stuff, I can’t work very many hours right now, but maybe later… Still, later could mean _years_.” Levi sighed and both hands dropped down to hang loosely at his sides. “I don’t want to wait years. I’ve already been waiting pretty much my entire life.”

Oscar blinked, surprised. Levi had never actually _asked_ him for money before. He decided to take it as a welcome development, though Levi clearly wasn’t too comfortable with it yet. Still, it was a big step up from when doing something as small as paying for his food would incite a fight. Oscar turned on the faucet and rinsed off his toothbrush, casually asking, “How much do you need?”

“Not a lot. I can cover most of it,” Levi assured him. “I just… the therapist visits will probably be more expensive than the T and I’ll have to go for a while before they’ll finally approve me.”

“Just let me know what you need then. Okay?”

Levi nodded reluctantly. Oscar put his toothbrush away and laid his hands on Levi’s shoulders, smoothing out the curve of them until Levi was standing at his full height. “I’m happy to pay for it, you know?” he told Levi. “I’m glad I can help.” Levi wouldn’t look him in the eye though, so Oscar opened the medicine cabinet and removed his three current prescription bottles. “You know how much all this would cost if I didn’t have insurance?” he asked.

Levi shook his head.

“Fucking ridiculous, that’s how much. But if I needed help paying for them, you’d be happy to pitch in, right?”

“That’s different,” Levi said.

“How?” Oscar demanded. Levi didn’t have an answer. Oscar popped open his two nightly prescriptions and swallowed his doses before putting all the bottles away. “If you hate it that much, then graduate college, land some nice paying job, and spoil me rotten. But for now, let me help out, okay? It’s really not that big of a deal.”

Suddenly, Levi wrapped his arms around Oscar’s back and squeezed him so hard that Oscar wasn’t sure if it was affection or punishment. Well, it wasn’t like the two were mutually exclusive.

“It’s a fucking big deal,” Levi muttered, face buried in Oscar’s t-shirt. “It’s…” A swift stream of mumbled Spanish followed, the only piece of which Oscar managed to catch was, “ _Gracias_.”

Oscar rubbed up and down Levi’s back and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, holding him until finally the freezing floor drove them to bed. In the morning, Oscar would leave a message for the landlord about the heat before he left for work. But for now, curled together beneath the covers, they could keep each other warm.

* * *

 

That winter was unusually gentle on Oscar. He still felt tired and moody most days, but he didn't sink to the level of listlessness that usually swallowed him during the cold months. He wanted to believe that he was finally, _really_ getting better, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it wouldn't last.

Sure enough, the dark days caught up with him in the spring. He swung constantly between being unable to fall asleep and waking from nightmares with panic pumping through his veins. On sleepless nights, he curled up on the couch to re-watch episodes of Devil Next Door, sometimes using the glow of the screen to compose letters and sometimes just staring at the actors dully. After nightmares, he usually practiced mindfulness until he calmed down. After _especially_ bad ones, the ones that left him irrational long after his heart stopped pounding, he called Levi.

Despite being burrowed beneath his weighted blanket with Scout purring up a storm beside him, Oscar's fingers were so jittery that it took him three tries to get his phone to call Levi.

It rang five times before someone that was not Levi picked up. “Hello?” the stranger whispered.

“...Raj?” Oscar guessed, a dim recollection of an earlier text message floating into mind. Levi had mentioned he’d be studying late with Raj at the library, which would explain the whispering.

“Yeah,” Raj answered. “I saw it was you and figured someone should answer.”

“Are you two still working at the library?” Oscar asked, struggling to keep his voice even. He glanced at the clock; it was nearly three in the morning, but he’d kept the same late hours in college too.

Raj chuckled. “Well, _I’m_ still working. Levi’s using his book for a pillow. Want me to wake him up?”

“No, it’s fine,” Oscar said. He scrubbed his free hand over his face, grimacing at how clammy he was. “Let him sleep.”

“You sure? You don’t sound good, man.”

“I just—” He stopped and gently rubbed his hoarse throat, which had probably given away the fact that he’d been crying just a few minutes ago. “I’m fine.”

But Raj was persistent. “You called for a reason, didn’t you?”

Oscar wondered what exactly Levi had told Raj about him. He could never remember if Raj was someone Levi met in class, at a school club, or on the job. Oscar hadn't properly spoken to Raj before, but he hung around Levi enough that Oscar knew random nuggets of information about the guy. He assumed Raj knew at least as much about him. “I’ll be okay,” he said.

But he’d barely finished when he heard Levi in the background groggily asking, “Is that Oscar?”

“I swear he’s got a sixth sense for you,” Raj muttered. “Here, hold on a second.”

The phone went silent for a moment as he was passed over. Then Levi, voice gravelly with sleep, came on the other end. “Oscar? What’s wrong?”

 _Do you remember that battle just outside of Klorva? Eren had so many nightmares about it afterwards that I’m not sure which bits really happened. It took half a day to find you and Jean, so long that by the end of it, we only kept searching out of stubbornness, not any kind of hope._ But instead Oscar said, “I don’t wa— I can’t talk about it. I just needed to hear you.”

“Nightmare?” Levi asked.

“Yeah.” Oscar swallowed down the lump that suddenly rose in his throat. “Would you tell me what you’re working on?”

So Levi explained the three things he was working on: studying for a hellish exam in the morning, trudging through a problem set due the next day, and attempting to finish up a bullshit paper for a gen ed class. Levi kept his voice to a low whisper, creating a false sense of intimacy that allowed Oscar to imagine it was Levi curled in bed with him instead of Scout.

After a while, Oscar’s chest loosened enough that he could properly engage in a normal conversation. Raj, sensing the shift in tone, began teasing Levi for falling asleep until Levi shot back that at least he had a chance of passing, unlike _some_ people. Then either a library worker or a disgruntled student came over to shush the pair of them and Levi went outside, leaving Raj to watch his stuff.

Without any eavesdroppers around, the phone call quickly turned to more private topics. Are you really all right? (I miss you.) Is everything still going okay with the gender therapist? (I miss you.) Have you been taking care of yourself? (I miss you.)

When they hung up, Oscar stroked Scout’s soft fur and counted the weeks left until summer break, resisting the urge to call Levi back and ask him to come home now.

* * *

 

That summer, fresh off of his second year of college, Levi started HRT.

For the first dose, he was injected at the doctor's office. Oscar, who had to work, missed the event, but he watched for the second dose and thought he might be sick.

“Oh god,” he moaned when Levi filled the syringe. The needle looked way too long. “That’s going in your _muscle_.” Scout, banished from the bathroom for the procedure, seemed to agree with his anxiety and was meowing loudly outside the closed door.

Levi, on the other hand, was perfectly confident. “If it bothers you that much, then go away,” he said.

“But what if you mess up?” Oscar said, wringing his hands. The instructions the doctor had given Levi included all sorts of horror stories in fine print at the bottom— nerve injuries and infections and blood vessel breakage and so on.

Levi rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, if I fuck up my leg, I’ll be completely incapable of yelling for help. And the effect, it’ll definitely be immediate.”

“Shut up, okay?” Oscar took a deep breath, attempting to calm down his fluttering heart and the tumultuous stirring of his stomach. It was just a needle. People stuck themselves with needles all the time. “I want to watch, needles just… I don’t like needles.”

“I’ll bet you were that toddler who screamed bloody murder at the doctor’s office,” Levi muttered, squinting at the syringe to check the dosage.

“I wasn’t that scared of them when I was little,” Oscar insisted, wanting to defend his toddler self’s bravery—though his mother did have one story she liked to tell about him crying at the doctor’s office. “They only started creeping me out really bad after my mom donated blood marrow.”

Levi paused, glancing up at him from his seat on the toilet lid. “Your sister?” Levi asked.

“Yeah,” Oscar said. He swallowed, looking away from the needle. “Mom and Dan both got tested—I wasn’t old enough— but neither of them were a close enough match. We were hoping they’d find someone in the registry, but it’s really hard to find a match for someone who is mixed. Eventually, Lisa was so sick that the risk of a rejection didn’t really matter anymore. Mom was a better match than Dan, so the doctors took the marrow from her. You know what they do? They stick this giant needle into your hip and just suck it out. I read up about it a lot and it grossed me out.”

Oscar shuddered, imagining it. After looking at all the pictures of the procedures in medical books, he’d had nightmares for days about it. “I was kind of glad I wasn’t old enough,” he admitted. “But then I felt terrible for thinking that way, because what if I’d been a better match? Maybe she’d still be alive...”

“You were, what, fourteen or something? Sounds perfectly normal for someone that age to think like that,” Levi said.

“But—” Oscar started, but he snapped his head around when he heard a plastic clunk. Levi had thrown the used needle into the red medical waste disposal bin. “You already did it!”

“Yeah,” Levi said, unrepentant. He was swabbing a tiny blot of blood on his thigh with an alcohol pad. “And I’m totally fine, see?”

Oscar watched for the third dose too, but after that he was satisfied that Levi wasn't going to mutilate himself somehow and stopped putting himself through the torture.

Despite trying to play it cool, it was obvious that Levi was ecstatic. He eagerly cataloged each change, even things Oscar thought no one would get excited over, like smelling different and pimples.

“Look,” Levi said, hold out his forearm for Oscar to inspect. “I swear I'm hairier already.”

“Maybe,” Oscar hedged. According to most guys' timelines online, it was still too early for that. But they did also stress that it was different for everyone, so it wasn't impossible.

Levi took his arm back, plucking at the hairs a little to better measure their length and thickness. “I bet I'll get even hairier than you.”

Oscar laughed. “You should set your sights higher; I'm not that hairy.”

While his hairiness was questionable, Levi was definitely hungrier and hornier. At least once a week, Levi would ambush Oscar when he got home from work and, after they finished and lay panting in bed (assuming they got that far), he would sit up and ask, “You want to go get Chinese?”

Maybe it was because Oscar was coming off from a terrible spring, or maybe Levi's good mood was infectious. Either way, it was the best summer Oscar had experienced since Eren Yeager's memories had assaulted his mind.

Which was probably why Oscar reacted so strongly when something did go wrong.

* * *

 

Oscar weighed the relative merits of nectarines versus peaches while Levi surveyed the bell peppers with a critical eye. A half-forgotten thought bubbled up in his head and he turned towards Levi to call out that they had to pick up food for Scout too. As Oscar craned his neck, he caught a glimpse of golden blonde hair in the corner of his vision. There, over by the frozen food cases--

He'd crossed half of the produce section before he realized something was wrong. Several things. Too tall. Nose too big. Alive.

The person pulling a bag of frozen tater tots out of the freezer wasn't Armin. But they looked so much like Armin— Eren's Armin— that it was enough to  make him want to scream. Armin was dead. Armin was gone. Armin—

 _The_ _**Titan** _ _grips Armin by one leg and Armin dangles limply like a doll. Even from a distance, Eren can see his golden blond hair turning muddy from a head wound. He isn't moving— unconscious Eren decides firmly because he can't be dead, not yet— but he certainly will be dead if the_ _**Titan** _ _eats him._

 _Eren roars and smashes in the nearest_ _**Titan's** _ _face with heel of his palm, but the_ _**Titans** _ _are swarming him. Several small ones cling to each of his legs, trying to climb him, and two bigger are crushing him from behind. He won't make it in time. He can't—_

_Mikasa soars, flying hard and fast, and cuts clean through the hand clenching Armin. Armin plummets with the sliced appendage. He's too high, the fall—_

_Eren rips an arm off one of the_ _**Titans** _ _pressed against his back, vision turning red and hot. He won't make it. But he doesn't have to._ _**Captain** _ _Levi collides with Armin and clutches him. He can't get a proper hold on him though. Under the sudden, additional weight, one of his anchors falls loose and his flight path buckles wildly. Somehow he manages to steer them to a rooftop for a crash landing._

 _Mikasa arches backs around towards Eren and slays two of the_ _**Titans** _ _scaling his legs. Sasha appears and kills the_ _**Titan** _ _whose arm Eren tore off. With the two women's help, Eren breaks loose from the swarm, pummels a_ _**Titan** _ _who dares to stand in his way, and bounds to the crash site in four strides._

 _Connie and Jean are there. Connie is attempting to stem the blood flow from Armin's skull. Jean cuts a cursing_ _**Captain** _ _Levi out of his uniform jacket. One of the_ _**Captain's** _ _arm hangs strangely and Eren realizes he must've dislocated his shoulder in the fall._

 _Speech is too difficult in this form, but Armin still isn't moving, isn't stirring in the least, and he needs to know. A desperate noise rumbles deep in his throat. Connie and Jean look up from their work, startled, but_ _**Captain** _ _Levi understands. From between teeth gritted tight with pain, the_ _**Captain** _ _hisses, "_ _**He's alive. He'll be okay.** _ _"_

_Relief erupts in Eren's chest and he trembles and shakes and if he could cry in this form—_

His eyes stung and his vision shimmered, glassy and liquid. He _was_ crying. He... he...

The person who wasn't Armin pushed their cart down the aisle and disappeared. His heart lurched. He nearly went after them, but they weren't Armin. Armin was dead, twice over. His stomach swelled and swayed with so much sorrow that he thought he might throw up.

Levi was suddenly beside him, touching his back lightly and slipping his other hand into Oscar's when he didn't jerk away from Levi's touch. Oscar shuddered, legs buckling, and Levi asked very quietly, "Do you know where you are?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. If he opened his mouth, either bile or sobs would emerge.

"What do you need?"

He needed— he wanted—

A murmur reached his ears that didn't come from Levi and he realized that everyone in the produce section was staring at him, the grown man breaking down next to a pyramid of cantaloupe. He didn't care what they thought of him, he really fucking didn't, but he still didn't want these strangers to be a part of his grief.

"Home," he bit out and Levi took him home. With one arm tight around his back, Levi led him out of the store and packed him into the passenger seat of the car. He couldn't stop crying the entire ride. When they reached the apartment, Oscar stumbled into the bathroom and threw up into the toilet. There wasn't much in his stomach and the vomiting quickly turned into dry heaving. Levi stroked his back and tried to convince him to drink some water, but Oscar knew it would just come right back up if he drank now. When the heaving stopped, Levi helped him clean up his face and then Oscar collapsed into bed, trembling so hard he thought he might rattle apart.  
  
Levi retrieved his weighted blanket from its drawer and curled around him beneath it, holding him so he didn't shake into a thousand loose bits. He buried his face in Levi's neck and tried to just breathe. Levi's skin was damp and he smelled strongly of sweat. He knew Levi was probably overheated beneath the blanket with another person practically trying to climb inside him. But when he attempted to disentangle himself, Levi just held him tighter. So he stayed right where he was until he'd been exhausted of tears _and_ exhausted himself.

The next thing he knew, Oscar woke up when the mattress bent under Levi's weight. Levi had stripped down to his boxers and binder and was returning with a glass of water in each hand. Levi offered one glass to him. Oscar assessed his stomach for any stirring and then took the glass with a clammy hand, sitting up just enough to drink without spilling everywhere. After he'd gulped down half of it, Levi asked, "Okay?"

His head was pounding fiercely and he felt way too cold for someone under a heavy blanket during the summer, but he said, "Yeah."

Levi drank a little water and set the glass aside on the nightstand beside the alarm clock. He scooted closer to Oscar, but didn't get back under the blanket. "What happened?"

To be honest, Oscar didn't really understand what happened either. He'd already known Armin was dead. He'd thought he'd processed Eren's echoing grief already. "I saw someone who looked like my friend who died. It... overwhelmed me, I guess. Made me remember something."

"Triggered you?"

"Not... Maybe. It wasn't really a bad memory. Scary, though." Oscar's face itched and he scrubbed at the dried tear tracks on his cheeks before draining the remaining water. Levi watched him with that all too familiar pinched expression he wore when he was either worrying or praying or both, and a question rose unbidden to Oscar's lips. "What do you think happens to people after they die?"

Levi blinked and his face shifted into a narrow-eyed calculation. "You mean the afterlife?" Oscar nodded and Levi sighed very, very deeply. "I don't know. I'm not sure what's true and what's not about heaven and hell and all that."

"You're Catholic though."

"Just because I'm Catholic doesn't mean I automatically agree with everything the Church says. I do believe that people have immortal souls though," Levi said, folding his legs to sit cross-legged. Oscar reached over to place his glass beside Levi's on the nightstand and then laid back down, resting his head in Levi's lap. "What about you? You don't believe in God, but do you really think we die and that's it?"

“Well... I guess I believe in reincarnation,” Oscar said.

One of Levi's thumbs rubbed a tiny massage into Oscar's right temple, right where his headache was throbbing. “Isn't that kind of the same thing as believing in immortal souls? You're the same as you were, just different.”

“You're starting over in a new life though,” Oscar argued. “Maybe some part of the soul is the same, but the person can't be.”

Levi shrugged. “Maybe. I don't really know anything about reincarnation.”

Oscar suddenly felt exhausted all over again. He knew he should get up because there was still things he needed to do today (groceries, for one) but he was just so tired of everything.

“Neither do I.”

* * *

 

Although Oscar worked hard to keep the bright pinpricks of Eren’s memories as far away as possible, there was one in particular that he couldn’t help staring into until it blinded him with its light.

_Armin and Mikasa both promised to stay up with him all night, but Eren hadn’t expected them to actually make it. Everyone was tired from being spread thin for months and Armin and Mikasa were no exception. By the time the candles were burned to low nubs, Armin had drifted to sleep practically mid-sentence, slumping down slowly until he rested on the bed in a mostly horizontal position. Mikasa held out longer, conversing with him in soft whispers until finally she too nodded off, curled in Eren’s chair in a position that would no doubt result in a stiff neck the next day._

_Eren contemplates shifting her into a more comfortable position—he could probably squeeze her onto his bed beside Armin—but he does not want to risk waking her. He wants them to sleep, even if he can’t. For as much as he tries to close his eyes and level off his breathing, slumber will not arrive._

_He isn’t sure if that is because he is afraid or if it is some morbid anticipation. Perhaps both. Even still, he needs to sleep. They still must travel to the capital in the morning and while Eren probably could sleep on his horse for the majority of the journey, it would be bad form._

_After several minutes of puttering around the room—he has no more paperwork or field reports to complete, hadn’t thought to bring anything to read, no longer has any hobbies, and there’s nothing to clean— he remembers that_ _**Captain** _ _Levi has a special blend of tea that is supposed to help with falling asleep. The_ _**Captain** _ _’s dark circles cast some doubt on its potency, but Eren supposes it is worth a shot._

_All of the tea is kept in the kitchen, including the box containing all of **Captain** Levi’s favorite leaves that no one else is allowed to even touch unless they are making a cup under his specific instructions. Fear of the **Captain** ’s wrath is sufficient to keep the tea safe, so there was no need for him to hide it anywhere._

_Usually Eren would not dare to disturb the **Captain** ’s collection, but he is certain the man can forgive him just this one time. And if he isn’t forgiven, what can **Captain** Levi do to him? Kill him? Ha._

_Quietly so as to not wake Armin and Mikasa, Eren tiptoes from his room and closes the door behind him before peering down the hallway. The main_ _**Survey Corps** _ _base in_ _**Rose** _ _always creeped him out and tonight was the same. Something about the window’s placement caused the moonlight to spill inside in such a way that the shadows on the ground looked like blood stains. Or perhaps the gory appearance is the fault of the stone floor’s color. Whatever the cause, it looks eerie._

_Padding barefoot down the hall, he passes the others’ rooms and the laundry room and the dining area. There is only a few meters between Eren and the kitchen when he registers the smell of black tea and then the sounds of voices._

_He’s not the only person awake._

_**Captain** Levi and **Squad Leader** Hange aren’t bothering to keep their voices hushed since there are several stone walls between the kitchen and anyone’s barracks. All it takes is one sentence from Hange for Eren to know what they are talking about._

“ _ **You could’ve said no, you know.** ”_

“ _ **No, I couldn’t.** ”_

_Hange doesn't say anything. Usually, it is hard to get Hange to stop talking, but the **Squad Leader** is also very good at patiently drawing out answers with unbroken silence. Outside the doorway, Eren hangs back and waits as well._

_Eventually, Eren hears a cup being set down on the kitchen’s wooden table. “ **This has been the deal since the beginning,** ” Levi says. He sounds exhausted, even for him. “ **I can’t back out now.** ”_

_Hange waits for more, but that is all Levi offers. Finally, more gently than Eren ever thought possible for the **Squad Leader** , Hange says, “ **The circumstances have changed though.** ”_

_Levi snorts. “ **They sure fucking have.** ”_

_Neither Hange nor Levi speak for so long that Eren’s bare feet begin to ache on the cool, stone floor. Even though they aren’t talking, it seems like they will not vacant the kitchen for Eren’s pillaging in a long time, so he gives up the cause. Just as he starts to creep away, he hears Levi make a strange, breathy noise. Eren freezes._

“ _ **He deserves better,** ” Levi mutters. “ **It’s not— he deserves better.** ”_

_Hange makes a soft noise in agreement and maybe murmurs something too, but Eren doesn’t hear. He can’t hear over his pulse pounding in his ears._

_For an indeterminable amount of time, Eren hovers just outside the kitchen like a shadow, or maybe a ghost. Finally, feet cold and sore, he wanders back down the hallway the way he came, squeezes into his narrow bed with Armin at his back and Mikasa at his side, and falls asleep._  
  
Oscar knew why he kept returning to this scene; it stood in such sharp contrast to his current reality. He knew that Levi liked him— _loved_ him, even. But until that night, Eren had never been able to claim the same about his **Captain**.

Oh, Eren had known for years that he had the **Captain** ’s trust and respect and that **Captain** Levi cared for him as a part of the team. But that night, eavesdropping on his superior officers until his feet froze, was the first time Eren was ever certain that his Levi liked him as a person.

The knowledge might’ve been a great gift if it hadn’t come so late. As it was, all Eren could feel at the time was a fresh stab of guilt.

* * *

*****

AHHHHHH. Oh my god. Okay, you guys need to check out all of the amazing fanart people have drawn for this fic since I last posted.

BlagMarquet drew a [comic](http://blaqmarquet.tumblr.com/post/117208166699/wow-just-wow-i-had-the-hardest-time-trying-to) of Oscar coming into the apartment after the storm, right before lightning triggers him. !!! And !!! nayawata and inmedio drew their depictions of [Oscar](http://nayawata.tumblr.com/post/117187425560/ozgur-and-his-bright-colors) and [Levi](http://inmedio.tumblr.com/post/117552106282/the-other-day-i-started-reading-the-rest-of-their) respectively. !!! !!!! !!! Basically, I am beyond flattered and these three are incredible. <3 <3

ALSO! As Oscar gets better at Spanish, he starts understanding more of it and therefore more Spanish starts showing up in this fic. My knowledge of Spanish is pretty much limited to a few years of my childhood when I could understand a decent amount of what I heard (but not speak any) because I hung out with my Mexican neighbors a lot. The internet is full of helpful resources for Spanish, but I'd really like it if I could run some sentences by someone who is fluent. **So if you are fluent in Spanish (especially Mexican Spanish!!!) and wouldn't mind helping me out, please[hit me up on tumblr](http://zhedang.tumblr.com/ask)!**

Anyway, thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!


	7. PART THREE (3/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which, for better or worse, all things must come to an end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE: All warnings from previous chapters apply. In particular, people who need to be wary of sexual assault, suicide, and death of family members should proceed cautiously. Nothing is graphic, but they are discussed. Please contact me on tumblr ( zhedang.tumblr.com ) if you have any questions.
> 
> It took me about two months to write it, but it's finally here. There are, without a doubt, a thousand typos in this chapter, so please bear with me. 
> 
> Technically speaking, this is the last chapter, but there is an epilogue to follow. Until I get that posted, please enjoy the final section of the final part of The Rest of Their Lives.

_**A Titan-sized thank you to[ereanis-bitch](http://ereanis-bitch.tumblr.com/) / [Lonely](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonely/) and [leviathaneren](http://leviathaneren.tumblr.com/) / [leviathaneren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/leviathaneren/) for their Spanish translation assistance and cultural insight! I couldn't have written this chapter without them.**_

**_**Another Titan-sized thank you to[BlagMarquet](http://blaqmarquet.tumblr.com/post/124891985194/couldnt-stop-thinking-about-zhedangs-the-rest-of) and [hypermanica](http://hypermanica.tumblr.com/post/125127853189/inspiration-the-rest-of-their-lives) for drawing more TROTL fanart! I loved seeing both of your drawings! ** _ **

**PART THREE (3/3)**

The first time Oscar woke up, all he got was impressions. Pain. The crisp, unmistakable scent of a hospital. Someone speaking. Things sharpened just a bit, enough for him to register the sight of his right arm immobilized in a cast and the sound of a question hanging in the air. He mumbled an answer, then slipped back under. 

The second time Oscar woke up, Levi was there. The fingers of Oscar’s left hand were twined with Levi’s, while Levi’s free hand clutched his rosary. He was praying—aloud, but whisper soft— as his fingers slowly worked their way through the beads. Not wanting to interrupt, Oscar just listened, fighting the urge to drift back to sleep by trying to translate the Spanish. But whatever drugs he was on were making him too loopy for the task, so he gave up on it and settled for staring unabashedly at Levi.

His hair was longer than Oscar had ever seen it, completely grown out from his buzzcut and curling gently at the ends. Oscar cast his mind back to the summer and realized that he couldn’t remember the last time Levi had shaved it. It looked thick and soft and Oscar wanted very much to touch Levi’s bangs—he had bangs now—and test his hypothesis.

His fingers instinctively flexed against Levi’s and the prayer stopped. “Oscar,” Levi said, rising out of his chair to lean over the bed, hand tightening around his.

“Your hair is wavy,” Oscar observed.

Levi blinked. “…It is,” he agreed.

Since Levi had so conveniently come closer, Oscar tugged his hand out of Levi’s and ran it through his hair. Very thick, very soft. “It’s nice. You’re growing it out?” 

“Not much longer than this, but yeah. I figured it was time.”

“What do you mean?” Oscar asked, playing with Levi’s bangs a little. He had bangs. They were short, but still. Bangs.

Levi closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “I cut all my hair off the week before my _quinceañera_ ,” Levi said, leaning down a little so Oscar could reach better and staring up at him through his eyelashes.

“Your fifteenth birthday?” 

“Yeah. It’s a  big deal. There’s a special church ceremony, then a party. You’re supposed to wear a gown and get your hair and makeup done…” Levi sighed, long and tired. “I didn’t want to do it and I kept telling my mother not to throw a party and everything, but she wouldn’t listen.” 

“So you cut off all your hair?” 

“I’d been wanting to do it for a long time. All the _quinceañera_ stuff was just making everything worse.” Levi took Oscar’s hand from his hair and squeezed his fingers. “I felt better with my hair short. She was furious though.”

Oscar squinted up at Levi, trying to imagine him with long hair. It was a weird image. “I like it buzzed. I like it like this too. Do you like it?”

Instead of answering, Levi ducked his head down and kissed him, so quick that Oscar’s drugged brain had barely registered what was happening before Levi had pulled away to rest his forehead lightly against Oscar’s. “How do you feel?”

“My arm is broken,” Oscar reported. 

Levi’s eyes flicked over to his casted arm. “I noticed. Do you remember what happened?” 

He suspected that the nurse— or whoever had been talking to him earlier— had tried to explain everything. But he couldn’t remember that or how he’d landed himself in a hospital bed in the first place, so he answered no. 

“You were out jogging and got hit by some asshole on a motor scooter. Your arm is the only thing actually broken, but the rest of you got banged up pretty bad too.”

“A motor scooter,” Oscar repeated, still hung up on that detail. It was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“You’re lucky it wasn’t a car. When the hospital called me, they just said you’d been hit and I thought—” Levi broke off, his mouth a tight, flat line.

Oscar pulled Levi close again with his good arm and kissed him, fingers sinking into Levi’s wavy hair. He couldn’t manage kissing for long without starting to feel unpleasantly lightheaded, but he continued stroking Levi’s hair as he nuzzled his nose along Levi’s. He wanted to apologize for worrying Levi or reassure him that he was okay, but Levi wouldn’t like either of those responses, so instead he said, “I missed you.”  
  
“Me too. But I wish you would have waited a week for Thanksgiving instead of getting hit by a fucking scooter of all things.”

Oscar laughed, flinching a little when his rib cage twinged. “I’ll remember that next time.”

===== 

The doctors examined him and he was carted off for some scans and tests before finally being given a (mostly) clean bill of health.  They wanted to hold him a couple of nights for observation on account of his head injury, but Oscar talked them down to just one. He was already starting to feel extra twitchy from the hospital smells and sounds, despite his best efforts to quiet the memories of Lisa's last few months. One night was going to be hard enough. 

After the doctors were done, the police wanted a piece of him, which did not help his nerves at all. All they did was ask him about the crash, but Oscar didn’t like cops. They made him feel small and powerless, like an insect being scrutinized through a magnifying glass. He did his best to answer their questions, but he wasn't much help since he didn't remember anything.

“A witness described the driver as a white man in his early twenties  with red hair, approximately six feet tall and one hundred and eighty pounds,” the taller cop said, reading off from some notes. “Do you know anyone fitting that description?”

The only redhead Oscar knew was Vivian and there was no way she could be mistaken for a six foot tall, twenty year old man. “I don't, sir,” he answered. “But why might I know them? I thought it was an accident.”

The taller cop glanced at his partner. She folded her arms and told Oscar, “The witness believed the crash to have been deliberate. She reported that the driver originally drove past you, but then turned around to strike you from behind.” 

“They were wearing a gold helmet,” Oscar remembered suddenly. “They went by on my left about halfway down Chester Drive.” He frowned, trying to recall more, but he'd only seen them speeding past him out of the corner of his eye. “I don't remember getting hit though...”

They asked him some more questions, but Oscar couldn't think of anyone who'd want to hurt him so badly that they'd  run him over— even if only with a motor scooter. Finally, after instructing him to contact them if he remembered anything else, the cops left him alone again. 

His mother arrived in the late afternoon and descended upon him like a hawk snatching up prey. “Oscar,” she groused, somehow managing to cram all her worry and exasperation and love into just two syllables. “Oh, look at you. And of course you broke your right arm again.” 

“Again?” Levi asked.

“He fell out of a tree when he was six,” she explained absent-mindedly, touching Oscar’s forehead with the back of her hand. “And… hm.” She stopped awkwardly and shot Oscar an apologetic look for what she’d almost said.

“It’s okay, he knows,” Oscar told her. And then to Levi: “I broke it again when I jumped off the roof.” 

Levi didn’t react to the mention of his supposed suicide attempt other than a single, “Oh.”

Louise turned towards Levi and properly saw him for the first time since entering the room. “Well! Aren’t you looking handsome!”

She wasn’t just referring to his new hair. She hadn’t seen Levi since he’d started T and the difference between pre-T and six months on it were striking. Oscar couldn’t really explain what the difference was besides that pieces of Levi were shifting somehow. The biggest change to Oscar was his voice, which broke every now and then and was in the process of settling into a deeper timber. It still startled him a little bit when Levi answered the phone.

At the word “handsome,” Levi glanced at Oscar wryly, but he thanked Louise with sincerity. 

“You really didn’t have to come, Mom,” Oscar told her, sitting up straighter in bed. His ribs ached and his head pounded, but he ignored the pain. “The doctors said I can go home tomorrow.”

“Oh, don’t talk nonsense. I was going to see you in a week anyway.”

“What about work?”

“I can email clients just fine from your apartment.” 

As if on cue, Levi’s phone chirped. He glanced at it, then rose from his chair and cracked his back. “That’s my ride. I’ve got to head out. Morning shift— can’t make cappuccinos from the apartment.” 

“Tell Raj thank you for me.” Apparently the poor guy had spent all day sitting in the hospital cafeteria with no one for company but his textbooks. At the very least, Oscar supposed, it had probably been good for his grades.

Levi leaned over and touched his forehead to Oscar’s, one hand squeezing his shoulder. “I’ll see you next Wednesday,” he murmured, the words spoken so closely to Oscar’s face that they felt like a kiss. And then, each syllable soft and nearly silent, “ _Te quiero_.”

Oscar couldn’t stop the broad smile that crossed his face; his Spanish was still languishing in the beginner stages and he rarely managed to understand what Levi said in full. Equally quiet, he answered, “ _Yo también te quiero_.”

Levi pulled back and stared at Oscar in shock, a blush just barely visible on his cheeks. “Since when— you—” he sputtered. Oscar watched with amusement—he’d never seen Levi so surprised. Either he’d forgotten all about Oscar’s _Maybe I’ll learn both text_ or he’d thought Oscar wasn’t serious. Finally, Levi managed to put together a full sentence. “Are you learning online or something?”

“How’d you guess?” 

“Your pronunciation is shit. No real life teacher would let you get away with it.” 

Oscar laughed, pressing one hand to his ribs to subdue their flare-up. “You better whip me into shape then.”

Levi just scowled at him in a manner that somehow conveyed more pleasure than distaste. He glanced over at Louise, who’d been politely examining the wallpaper, and made some short, fast comment to her in Spanish. Louise barked with startled and delighted laughter

“Is he? It’s probably my fault,” she said between chuckles. And then, switching to Spanish, she added something that made Levi flash a shark-like grin.

“I hate both of you,” Oscar declared. “You’re uninvited to Thanksgiving. Me and Scout will have a wonderful turkey dinner without you two.”

Unimpressed, Levi snorted and Louise rolled her eyes. A moment later, Levi’s phone chirped again, but he didn’t bother checking it. Instead, he laid his hand on Oscar’s shoulder one more time and said, “Take it easy, _darlin'_ ,” with an exaggerated drawl.

Oscar felt his face burn and understood immediately what his mother had told Levi a moment before: how much pet names embarrassed him.  He shot back, “Good luck on your exam, _sweetheart_ ,” cringing internally even as he spoke. But Levi just scoffed and waved dismissively before telling Louise goodbye and leaving.

His mother hung around until the very end of visiting hours, fussing over him and chiding him in equal measure. After she departed for Oscar’s apartment to feed Scout— promising to pick him up first thing in the morning— Oscar tested the mobility of his broken arm. He could wiggle and flex his fingers without any pain, but lifting his arm up made the shoulder spasm a little. It wasn’t anything some extra strength pain killers couldn’t handle though, so he’d probably be able to return to work right away. Even still, Oscar found himself envying Eren’s ability to heal up any injury within a matter of minutes— or hours at most.

As he lay awake in the hospital bed, trying to ignore the bad memories conjured by the rhythmic beeping and chemical odor, he thought back to what the cops had said about the crash. No matter how much he thought, Oscar couldn’t think of anyone who might want to hurt him and actually do it. Maybe the driver was just some racist asshole Oscar had the misfortune of being spotted by. Hell, maybe the witness had the whole thing wrong.

As Oscar drifted off to sleep, a thought quietly formed in his head: he didn't have any sworn enemies, but Eren Yeager had plenty.  
  
=====

Louise had not visited the apartment since she’d helped him move in years ago, so having her there was strange. She insisted on sleeping on the couch, (“How did Levi sleep on this for so long?” “He’s four inches shorter than you.”) and poked through his movie collection, (“What are these Chinese DVDs?” “...Long story.”) and insisted on cooking all his meals for him (Oscar, your arm is broken, your ribs are bruised, and you nearly cracked your skull open, sit down.) 

She got a hotel room when Levi came home the day before Thanksgiving, commenting, “I’m sure you boys could use the privacy,” but she was still at the apartment for the bulk of the day. Both his mother and Levi refused to allow him to help prepare Thanksgiving dinner beyond stirring things and reading aloud recipe instructions. Oscar wanted to protest, but he’d barely won the argument about returning to work so soon and that victory had only been secured by pointing out he’d be miserable if he sat at home all day long.

As annoying as it could be to have both his mom and Levi teaming up against him, Oscar was also glad they got along so well. If Louise had any misgivings about Levi’s relationship with him, nothing in her behavior indicated it. On the contrary, she doted on Levi, asking him about his classes and his work and if he was eating right. She laughed at his dry remarks, traded sly comments with him in Spanish, and commended him on his cooking.  
  
For his part, Levi seemed to enjoy her attentions, never backing away from the brief affectionate touches she made— ruffling his hair, squeezing his shoulder, clasping him in a short hug. His mother was a tactile person, but Oscar knew she didn’t touch people she didn’t like. “My mom adores you,” Oscar told Levi the night before he had to return to campus. He saw the small, shy smile that crossed Levi’s face before he buried his face in his pillow to hide it.

Louise lingered just a couple more days after Levi left. Oscar accompanied her to the airport when she finally left. During the car ride, she urged him several times to take it easy, until Oscar was just mindlessly repeating, “Yes, Mom.” Finally, she relented and changed the topic.

“How are you doing with Levi gone so much?” 

“It gets lonely sometimes, but I deal.”

Louise hummed thoughtfully, fingers playing with her necklace pendant as she stared at him with an odd smile on her face.

“What?” Oscar demanded, tired of her coy looks.

“You intend to spend the rest of your life with him, don’t you?” 

“...Yes,” Oscar said, refusing to feel embarrassed but still fighting the childish impulse to squirm. He and Levi hadn’t talked about marriage or anything like that, but Oscar had every intention of staying for as long as Levi would have him. He’d felt that way from the start. “I know he’s young, but—”

“—He’s good for you,” Louise interrupted. She spoke so firmly that Oscar struggled to keep his gaze on the road. “I have to admit, he’s nothing like the kind of person I always imagined you settling down with. But you’re happier now than I’ve seen you in years.” 

Oscar had known this was true, but it was sometimes hard to remember when he still woke up sometimes feeling like life was too much trouble, still had to shut himself out from the world during thunderstorms, still struggled on occasion to take care of himself like an adult should. To hear someone else say it felt like warm sunshine shining gently on his face. He was doing better. He was doing something right. Levi was good for him.     

Even still, he had to confess to his mom the insecurity that prickled his insides every time he called Levi in the middle of the night, every time Levi spent an hour sitting beside him on the floor, talking him through a panic attack. “...I don’t know if I’m any good for him though.” 

“Oscar,” his mother said, dropping her pendant to touch his shoulder gently. “He looks at you like you hung the moon.”

=====

With both Levi and his mother gone, the apartment felt even emptier than usual in the weeks after their departure. Fortunately, Oscar didn’t have long to wait for the fall term to end and Levi was soon home again.

He was helping a professor with a project over winter break, so whenever Oscar returned from work he was usually engrossed in Excel spreadsheets and muttering about data analysis. Levi had explained what he was doing before, but all Oscar had managed to absorb was that it sounded terribly boring and it was somehow connected with a big sociology research project going on at the university. As usual, Levi had his computer open this day, but instead of typing he was tapping away on his cell phone. Probably texting Raj, Oscar decided, or even the professor. But Levi looked up at Oscar as he toed off his shoes and said, “Chloe wants to know if we want to come to her and Rob’s place for Christmas. 

“Why is she asking you and not me?” Oscar asked, taking off his scarf and gloves.

Levi scrolled up on his phone’s screen a little and read aloud in a deadpan, “He might actually say yes if you ask. Be persuasive, exclamation point, winky face, heart, heart.” 

“Wow. You really brought your A game there.” Scout ran up to him to rub against his legs, meowing loudly, and Oscar scooped her up to stroke her back. “I’m feeling all sorts of persuaded.”

Levi closed his laptop with a loud click. “I’m not going to make you do it if you don’t want to.”

“Do you want to?”

Levi shrugged, unfolding himself from his curled position on the couch and cracking his back. “I don’t really care either way about Christmas. I just don’t want you to be miserable.” He glanced at Scout who was purring contently against Oscar’s chest and gently jabbed her chubby stomach. “Don’t let her trick you into giving her treats. I gave her some, like, thirty minutes ago because she wouldn’t shut up while I was cooking. You spoil her too much.”

“She’s a cat, not a kid. Does it really matter if she’s kind of spoiled?”

Levi made an unimpressed _hmph_ noise, but didn’t comment otherwise.  “Anyway, I promised Chloe I’d at least ask you to think about it. So think about it.”

Oscar didn’t really need to consider it much. Chloe was the sort of person who went all out for holidays and Oscar knew if he went over to her place—even just for a couple of days—he’d likely end up losing his temper at best or having a panic attack at worst. It wouldn’t be fun for anyone involved. So he placed Scout back on the floor and shook his head.

“I’ll tell her no thanks then,” Levi said easily, already typing on his phone. With his head bent over his phone, Levi’s bangs hung down. Oscar brushed them back, remembering what Levi had said at the hospital. _I figured it was time_.

“I think…” he started, drawing his fingers away from Levi’s face. “I think I would be okay celebrating Christmas here with you.”

Levi blinked at him, thumbs still hovering over his phone screen. “…If you’re saying that because you think I miss Christmas, don’t. I don’t care.”

“I’d like to celebrate with you,” Oscar clarified, discovering the truth in his own words. He didn’t enjoy skipping Christmas any more than he liked hiding in his closet during thunderstorms, even though he’d been skipping Christmas long before everything else started. Since his mother no longer celebrated either, he’d never been particularly motivated to change. But Levi didn’t have a reason to avoid the holiday and celebrating with him would be vastly different from celebrating with his parents and sister when he was a kid. Besides… it felt like it was time. “Just a little bit though. A small Christmas. Does that make sense?”

“Not really, but I guess we can figure it out.” 

===== 

A small Christmas, it turned out, meant a tiny, waist-high tree that Levi offered to put away every few days because apparently Oscar kept making a sad face at it— at least until Scout toppled it over in a spectacular failed attempt at climbing it. After that, all he thought about when he looked at their tree was Scout’s pudgy, horrified face as the entire tree fell over with her.

A small Christmas meant exchanging gifts— just between the two of them because Levi’s budget was already stretched thin and the thought of stepping into a store to shop for multiple people made Oscar’s heart race. When it was just Levi, at least he could pretend it was only an early birthday present.

It meant Levi singing _Se Oye un Canto en Alta Esfera_ under his breath as he washed dishes, still working out what his new vocal range was.

It meant Oscar buying a gingerbread man cookie cutter on a whim, spending a Sunday afternoon experimenting with three different recipes, and Levi making him unload most of them on their neighbors because “How are we going to eat all that? There’s a million left still, take some to work tomorrow too.”

It meant breaking down crying on Christmas Eve, sobbing so hard his lungs ached, and not even being able to explain what set him off or what he was even upset about, just _Lisa, Lisa, Lisa_. Levi rubbed him up and down his back, saying “ _El llorar está bien, pero igual respira, querido_.”

It meant waking up at an unholy hour on Christmas morning (eyes still sore and face crusty with dried tear tracks), finding Levi sleeping burrowed against his side, and realizing that he loved Levi so much that no gift could ever adequately express it. So Oscar traced the words on Levi’s back instead and kissed him when he finally stirred.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad attempt at Christmas.

===== 

**The last few weeks, I’ve had this nagging fear and it wasn’t until I talked it out with** Alexis **that I realized what it was. What if** Levi **remembers everything and gets mad at me for… I don’t know, tricking him into a relationship or something.**

 **Captain** Levi **and** Eren **, they weren’t like** Levi **and I. I mean, I think** Eren **had a crush on the Captain for a while, but it kind of sputtered and died. The Captain though? No way.** Mikasa **and** Armin **always used to say he treated** Eren **differently than everyone else, but that was just because** Eren **was different.**

 **You know, I just thought of something even worse. What if** Levi **remembers everything and I don’t measure up? Because** Eren **was brave, basically a superhero, and I’m just--**

 **I wish you were here, so I could actually talk to you. I know you’re not** Mikasa **, but… all this is too private to talk about with anyone else, even** Alexis **.**

 **I know** Levi **remembering must still be years away, if it even happens, but I’m so scared of losing him. If it happened for a different reason, like we just drifted apart or whatever, I could be okay with it. But I don’t think I can bear** Eren **taking anything else away from me. Especially not** Levi. 

=====

Oscar was going through the day in a daze. He’d woken up that morning with the ghost of Eren Yeager filling his dark mind and wandered around the apartment completely disoriented for half an hour. When he’d finally gotten a grip on himself, he’d considered calling in sick. But he’d already done that a few too many times during the winter, so he forced himself to tug on clothes, choke down some breakfast, and drag himself to work.

So when Oscar’s phone first buzzed, it barely registered with his foggy brain. When it buzzed a second time, he decided to ignore it; he’d be going to lunch soon anyway, he could check it then. But after a third time, his curiosity finally beat his apathy. He stopped what he was doing, stripped off his gloves, and checked the phone's display. Three texts from an unknown number.

_you should call levi_

_like right now_

_oh this is raj not some creepy person_

Oscar texted back, _What happened? Is he ok?_ The lab was quiet except for the dim hum of the fluorescent lights, and he could hear his pulse pounding in his ears as he waited for Raj to reply.

It took a moment, but then the reply came: _better get him to tell you_ and _hes ok I think just shaken up and pissed af but idk_ and finally _CALL HIM_.

Oscar took his lunch break early. When Levi answered the phone, Oscar heard him mutter, “Fucking Raj,” under his breath and then he greeted Oscar with “I've got class in twenty minutes.”

Fine, then Oscar would get right to the point. “Raj is worried. What happened?” he asked.

“I told him nothing happened,” Levi growled. “I'm fine.”

Oscar rubbed the back of his neck, wondering how much to push. Levi could be very hard to read over the phone, since Oscar relied so heavily on the tiny changes in Levi’s body language and expression to gauge his emotions. But he could hear how brittle Levi's voice was, so he pressed just a little more. “You don't sound fine.”

Sure enough, Levi burst. “I just had to fucking piss, okay? That's all. I didn't want to go all the way back to my dorm to fucking pee and it was late anyway. I figured there probably wouldn't be anyone in there.” He broke off in a flurry of furious Spanish that was far too fast for Oscar to even hope to follow.

But Oscar's imagination had already gone to work and he didn't like the picture his mind was painting. His fingers clenched tight around his phone. “Are you okay? Levi, are you all right?”

“I'm _fine_. Just— this guy, I don't know if he was fucking drunk or what, he's there. He starts talking this girl shit at me, so I told him to fuck off and he shoves me against the wall and starts touching me. He didn’t listen when I told him to stop, so I made him _stop_.” Levi hissed the last word. “And then he starts wailing about how he's going to press charges against me because I broke his wrist and nose. But then this other guy who'd been on the shitter or something  says he heard everything  and he'd back me up, so the asshole just ran off.” Levi laughed once without any mirth. “I didn't even break his wrist; I probably just sprained it. Asshole.”

“How'd he even know—”

“I think I had a couple classes with him my first year. He must've recognized me from then.”

That made a little more sense. Besides being on the short side, Levi was more or less indistinguishable from any other guy now so long as he was binding. Oscar thought so, at least, but perhaps he wasn't the best judge. “Did you report him?” he asked.

“ _Nothing happened_ ,” Levi repeated, emphasis hard on each syllable, though he sounded more exhausted than angry now.

Oscar raked his hand through his hair, wondering if it was even his place to say anything. But he didn’t want Levi to just drop it like nothing happened. The asshole deserved a lot worse than a broken nose and sprained wrist. “Look, obviously I wasn't there. What you said sounded like assault to me, but it's up to you if you want to report him.”

“Bet if I reported it to the police, they wouldn't even do anything about it though,” Levi muttered.

Oscar sighed. “That's true, they might not.” He remembered how poorly the campus police handled sexual assault when he was in college and doubted much had changed.. “But would you at least think about it?”

Levi made a soft, tired noise and relented. “Fine.”

Oscar hated that note of defeat in Levi’s voice. The righteous anger had been a hundred times better. “Are you okay, Levi?” he asked one more time.

“My knuckles hurt from smashing his nose.”

That wasn’t what Oscar was asking and Levi knew it. So Oscar didn’t say anything in reply, just waited. It was something Alexis used on him all the time, to see what he’d reveal on his own without intrusive poking and prodding from her.

Eventually, Levi mumbled his name, voice strange and thick, and Oscar said, “Yeah? What is it?”

“I wish I was bigger. I w—” But Levi broke off with a frustrated noise that was half snarl and half sigh. “...Sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never going to be enough.”

Oscar didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have any advice he could give, didn’t have any idea what he could tell Levi that wouldn’t be completely ineffectual at best and condescending at worst. I’m sorry was at the tip of his tongue, but Levi always hated senseless apologies like that. So finally he said, “I love you and I wish I knew how I could help,” because in the end that was all he could do.

The line was quiet, but he could hear Levi breathing on the other end. After several long moments, Levi said, “I can’t think of anything you’re not already doing.”

That was nice to hear, but Oscar still felt kind of useless. “You know I’ll always listen if you want to talk, right? And if you don’t want to talk, just tell me to back off and I will.”

“Would you really?”

Levi’s tone was more amused than doubtful, but Oscar answered him seriously. “If you told me outright, of course. If you say it’s off limits, then that’s it.”

Levi was silent again, but it wasn’t as strained as the previous lapse. Eventually, Oscar heard movements on the other end and Levi said, “I really do have class soon.”

“Okay, I’ll let you go. By—”

“Oscar,” Levi said, interrupting his farewell. “ _Yo también te quiero. Gracias por llamarme_.”

Oscar’s brain still wasn’t working at it’s best, especially now that he felt agitated and jittery, but he managed an awkward, “ _No hay de qué_.”

“ _No hay de qué_ ,” Levi said slowly, correcting his pronunciation. He made Oscar repeat it a couple times before he was satisfied. Then he cursed and muttered, “I’m gonna be late.” Before Oscar could say goodbye, he added, “I’m okay, Oscar, really.”

“All right. Just… call me if you need to.”

Levi promised he would, then hung up.

Oscar lowered his phone, staring at the crushing grip he couldn’t seem to un-clench. With Levi gone, all the other emotions that had been bubbling inside him-- fear, sorry, adoration-- were drowned out by the red hot fury thrashing in his chest, demanding a target. He slammed his phone down on the nearest counter and then flexed the fingers of both hands, wishing he had something he could punch. The anger swelled, filling him until he was choking on it. Was it his fury, or was it coming from Eren’s echo?

Maybe both.

That night, he dreamed about pummeling **Titans** with nothing but his bare fists. For once, he didn’t mind that the memories were not his own.

=====

The weeks until summer break stretched on endlessly, until Oscar was certain he must’ve slipped into some sort of wormhole that distorted time. Maybe each day until Levi came home felt so long because he was aching to be near Levi and comfort him in ways more tangible than words.

It didn’t help that work barely qualified as a distraction anymore. Every day was much the same and never came with any sense of progress and accomplishment. He tried not to let it bother him, knowing that he should just be grateful to be working at all (especially in his field of study), but he couldn’t help but feel like he was stuck in a rut with no hope of escape.

But time did move and eventually Levi was back again, having survived his third year of college without looking any worse for the wear. Even still, Oscar had to resist the urge to hover around him, keenly aware that Levi did not want what had happened in the spring to be treated as a big deal. Whenever he approached or touched Levi, he watched carefully for signs of discomfort, feeling overly conscious of how much _bigger_ he was than Levi. But Levi didn’t act any differently, so eventually Oscar relaxed and just enjoyed having Levi back for a few months.    

Even though Levi was on campus more often than he was at the apartment, it was always easy to slip back into all the routines that came with having him home. Oscar liked waking up with him and going with him to bed, but his favorite part was always coming home to Levi and unwinding with him after a long day at work.

“This city has an outbreak,” Oscar announced dramatically as he walked through the door. He toed his shoes off and finished, “Of chlamydia.”

“Is that the one where pissing hurts?” Levi asked. He was curled on the couch with a spiral bound book in his hands and Scout napping on the arm beside him.

“Yeah, though a lot of STIs make pissing hurt. Chlamydia is one of those infections where people don’t realize they have it, so it spreads everywhere. All week long, chlamydia, chlamydia, chlamydia. I must’ve had… damn, I don’t know, a million positive urine tests for chlamydia.”

“A million is about three times the size of the city,” Levi pointed out.

Oscar ignored this reasonable statement and flopped down on the couch to dangle his legs over one end and lay his head in Levi’s lap. Levi lifted the book out of the way obligingly, shifting to hold it in one hand. “I’m so tired of chlamydia. And gonorrhea. And urine tests in general. They’re boring.”

Levi made a vague, sympathetic noise, the thumb of his free hand rubbing tiny circles on Oscar’s collarbone as the other held the book aloft just over Oscar’s face. Oscar craned his neck a little to get a better look at the cover, but all he could see from his angle was Exam P. “What is that? You were reading that when I left too.”

“Study manual for the first actuarial exam,” Levi answered, tilting the book so Oscar could see its contents. Oscar’s major had required a couple of statistics and calculus classes and he’d scraped through them with B’s, but the problems on the page he was looking at gave him a headache.

“You sure that’s not a guidebook to hell?”

Levi snorted. “It might be.”

“Do you have to pass the exams for school?”

“No. But if I can pass at least the first two, it’ll open up a lot more jobs for me.”

“Ah.” Oscar knew Levi was determined to find a “real” job after college. Job hunting was hard enough in the current economy, and job hunting while trans tended to throw a wrench into the entire operation. So Levi was doing everything he could to bolster his chances, racking up an impressive resume and networking with professors during each semester. “Do you want me to help you study?”

“Maybe later.” Levi set the book beside Scout. Both hands now free, he prodded Oscar until he removed his head from his lap, then turned so his back was to the couch’s arm and tugged Oscar back down so that he was cradled against Levi’s torso and between the V of his legs. “Why are you so heavy?” Levi grumbled, squirming a little to get more comfortable.

Oscar laughed, trying to be helpful by shifting his weight where Levi wanted him. “We can switch places if you want.”

But Levi ignored his suggestion. Scout, roused from her nap, climbed down from the couch arm to re-settle on Oscar’s stomach, kneading him with her paws and claws. Sandwiched between Levi and Scout, the summer heat was beginning to get to Oscar, but he figured if Levi could put up with it, he could too. Levi didn’t like to feel held down, so it wasn’t often that he got to be on top of Levi, even partially like this.

“Hey,” Levi said, voice rumbling against Oscar’s shoulders and back. “Why do you want to go to graduate school?”

Startled at the sudden subject change, Oscar attempted to look over his shoulder at Levi but couldn’t twist his neck far enough to glimpse his expression. Scout glared at him as his stomach shifted beneath her. “It’s just… I’m not satisfied with where I am, you know?” he said. “I want to learn more. Do more.”

“Yeah, but what?”

Oscar blinked, surprised that he hadn’t already talked to Levi about this. He was too drained from work to go into the full explanation, so he went with the short version. Levi knew enough of the context to fill in all the blanks. “Cancer research,” he said. And then he added, “Stereotypical, I know.”

Despite his attempt to lighten the mood, Levi became very, very quiet for a moment. He felt tense under Oscar, though perhaps that was just from bearing Oscar’s weight. He curled the fingers of one hand around Oscar’s wrist and stroked the sensitive skin on the underside.  “I want you to go,” he said. 

Oscar sighed. “I want to go too. But there’s no way I can work and do grad classes at the same time. It’s too much…” Stress. Energy. Life. “It’s too much.”

“So quit work and just do school.”

“And how am I going to pay for it then? I don’t have that much savings.”

“I’ll pay for it.”

Oscar blinked, certain he’d misheard. But no, Levi had said it with the same casual confidence the **Captain** had when he’d say stuff like, “You guys go get that **Titan** over there, I’ll handle these three.” He pulled away from Levi to sit against the other end of the couch and face him, Scout hopping down to the ground with a disgruntled meow. Levi let him go, drawing his own legs up against his chest so Oscar’s would fit on the couch too.

“You’ll pay for it,” he repeated.

Levi nodded. “If you apply for next year’s fall term, I’ll be out of school and working.”

Oscar just gaped at him. “Graduate tuition is really expensive, you know,” he said.

Levi tilted his head to one side ever so slightly and brushed his bangs back. “You told me to spoil you.”

It took a moment for Oscar to figure out what that meant, but finally he recalled that cold night from two winters ago. Between the scorching heat outside and the sweat gathering on the back of Oscar’s neck, it felt like a distant memory. _If you hate it that much, then graduate college, land some nice paying job, and spoil me rotten._

He couldn’t really argue with his own words, but still… “What if you don’t have a job?”

Levi made a broad, dismissive gesture with his hand. “All the stat majors I’ve met who already graduated were working somewhere full-time within a few months. A lot of them were snatched up before they even graduated. I’ll have a job.”

That sounded too good to be true, but Levi looked sure and Oscar didn’t want to cut into his confidence. “And what if I have to move out of state or something for school?”

“Then I’ll look for a job wherever we move. Just don’t apply to schools in the middle of nowhere.”

“My GRE score isn’t even valid anymore!” Oscar said, voice rising. He wasn’t angry or excited, he just didn’t know how else to deal with the odd emotion filling his lungs. “I’ll have to retake it!”

Levi’s voice was level and calm. “You better start studying then. That’s why I’m telling you now. Graduate programs have really early deadlines, right?”

"Some do,” Oscar said. He felt like he was deflating. He’d have to take the GRE again and research programs again and ask for letters of recommendation again and do everything all over again… but if he started now, he would have enough time to get it all together in time to apply for next year’s fall term. “How long have you been planning this?” he demanded.

Levi just shrugged. He was watching Oscar with narrow, sharp eyes and Oscar realized his hands were trembling. He coiled his fingers into loose fists and then un-coiled them. He breathed. He resisted the urge to apologize. “It’s— I’m not upset,” he explained. “It’s just… just…”

“A big change? A lot to take in?” Levi suggested.

“Yes,” Oscar sighed, bending inward. He folded his hands against his chest and concentrated on his heart beat, slowing his breathing so his heart would stop pounding against his rib cage. “I want to,” he muttered. “I just don’t know if…”

“You can.”

He made it sound so simple. Oscar laughed weakly. The noise rattled in his chest. “I might not even get accepted into a program.”

“You will.”

Oscar really envied that confidence. He wanted to believe that everything would work out, but it was a giant leap of faith. There was just too much that could go wrong. Not getting into a program was the least of his worries. What if he got into a program, but Levi didn’t find a job that paid well enough? Or what if he got into a program, but he and Levi split up? He supposed he could move in with his mom again and start job hunting from scratch, but the thought was terrible.

As much as he disliked the rut his working life had run him into, it was a routine. It was safe. Making such a drastic change-- no matter how welcome-- felt… overwhelmingly risky.

“Oscar,” Levi said, voice soft. He lifted his head to look at Levi on the other end of the couch. “I know it's scary to have to count on other people. I’ve been there. You’ve been my safety net for years. Let me have a turn.”

Oscar took in Levi’s face, filled with unwavering resolve, and knew without a doubt that Levi would do everything in his power to make this work out for him. That was the kind of person he was. That was the kind of person the **Captain** had been too.

So he took a deep breath, released it from his lungs, and nodded.

=====

Applying for graduate school was about ten times harder the second time around, but Oscar did his best to sit down and work on his to-do list whenever he had free time. He wanted to get the GRE out of the way first, so most of the summer wound being spent curled up beside Levi on the couch, studying. They’d both sit in near silence for hours, until finally one of them would declare that was enough, it was time to eat and go outside and do something besides look at books. It became a sort of contest to see who could focus the longest, eventually devolving into blatant attempts to distract the other by tickling the sole of their foot or stretching and moaning obscenely.

It wasn’t one of the most exciting summers Oscar ever had, but it was incredibly cozy.

Levi took and passed his first actuarial exam the week before he left for fall term. Oscar took the GRE not long after him and wound up scoring better than he did the first time around. He supposed it helped that he didn’t have a lot of other academic stuff going on.

Letters of recommendation were a much bigger hurdle. His boss at work said she’d be happy to write him a letter, so that was one. The rest would likely have to come from old professors however, a fact that filled Oscar with a strange kind of anxiety. He used researching schools and programs as an excuse to put off reaching out to them-- justifiable since it’d be better to tell them what specifically he was applying for-- but eventually he gave into the nagging from Levi, Chloe, Louise, and Alexis. He spent one feverish night sending off emails to the professors most likely to remember him fondly.

The next morning, Oscar’s phone rang just as he started his shift. He didn’t often get calls at work and at first he thought it might be one of  the professors calling him. He had, after all, included his phone number in case they wanted to catch up or ask him for more details directly.

But when he checked the display, a jolt ran straight through his heart. Levi. Levi never called him at work.

He vanished into the nearest break room and took the call. “Hello?”

“…Oscar?” Levi asked. Just as Oscar had feared, something was wrong; he could hear it in Levi’s voice. Levi rarely sounded so uncertain, so… young.

“Yeah. What’s the matter?”

“I… My mother’s dead.”

Oscar's stomach lurched. He didn't know what to say. He didn't really know how Levi felt about his mother, and he certainly didn't know what all passed between them before he met Levi. But Levi sounded gutted, so he said, "That’s… that’s awful."

Levi didn't respond. Oscar listened to the faint buzz of the phone connection for a few heartbeats before he gently prompted him with a soft, "Levi?"

"I just found out. _Mi prima_ Ximena-- I already missed the... shit." Levi sniffed and Oscar realized he was crying or close to it. " _Velorio_. What do you call it? The... the wake? Viewing?"

"What about the burial?" Oscar asked.

" _Mañana_ ," Levi mumbled. He let out a wet, shuddering breath.

"Tomorrow?"

"In the morning." Definitely crying. In that moment, Oscar hated the distance between them more than anything. He should be there with Levi. Levi probably wouldn't like  for anyone to see him crying, not even Oscar, but he wanted to wrap his arms around his shoulders and stroke his hair and kiss him so badly.

"Do you want me to come get you?" Oscar asked. He needed to do something, anything besides just listening to Levi cry. "I can leave now."

"...You're still at work," Levi said faintly, as though just realizing this. "No. I need to... I need to talk to some people first. Ximena _y mi  tía... mi padre. No sé si él_..." Levi sniffed again. "Can you... can you come get me tonight?"

Once his shift ended, he drove straight from work to Levi's college. It was dark by the time Oscar arrived. Levi was waiting outside, an overnight bag slung over his shoulder. He didn't say anything as he slid into the passenger seat, though he clung to Oscar's shirt with both hands when Oscar cradled his face between his palms and kissed his forehead.

Levi passed the car ride back home in silence, broken occasionally with prayer as he worked his way through the rosary several times over. Oscar kept the radio off and listened, trying  to understand, but Levi prayed so fluidly that it was like trying to carry a fistful of water.

The first time Levi spoke to him that night, they were nearly home. He turned towards Oscar, his face glowing and dimming with each passing streetlight, and asked in a hoarse voice. "How many funerals have you been to?"

"Just my grandmother's and Lisa's."

"I've been to a lot. At least ten. But... never anybody..." He trailed off and leaned his head against the window. Oscar stole glances  of him as he drove, taking in his weary face in pieces. He reached across the car and held Levi's hand, smoothing his thumb over the back of it until Levi fell asleep.

When they arrived, Oscar woke Levi reluctantly, throwing his arm over Levi's shoulders so Levi could lean against him as they staggered inside. Both of them had skipped dinner, but neither particularly felt like eating, so they turned into bed. Levi set the alarm and curled around Oscar, face hidden against his neck. "Will you come with me tomorrow?" he asked.

Oscar slipped his hand under Levi's night shirt and stroked his back, trying to warm Levi's cool skin. Kissing his hair, he murmured, "Yes." Levi shuddered, but Oscar didn't know if he was shivering because he was cold or because he was crying again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know if that'd be okay for you," Levi said, the words muffled against his neck.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Levi lifted his head, sitting up so he could look Oscar in the eye. "They're calling it an accident, but I know it wasn't."

"...Suicide?" Oscar clarified. Levi nodded, lips pressed together thinly and  brow knit. Oscar brushed Levi's bangs aside and smoothed his brow. "I can talk about it. I'll be okay. Are you sure it was really suicide?"

"Yeah." He sighed, shoulders hanging low. "She never saw a doctor, but she was... sick. She'd go through these phases. Really high and later really low. Sometimes she'd be somewhere in the middle for a while, but it never seemed to last."

"Bipolar?" Oscar guessed.

"Maybe. We couldn't get her to go to a doctor." Levi laid a hand on Oscar's chest, just over his heart. "She tried to kill herself when I was four, and then again when I was twelve."

"Shit." Oscar couldn’t even imagine living with the knowledge that his mother might take her life. And then he remembered the constant fear that haunted his mother’s face during the weeks that followed his departure from the psych ward, and Levi’s careful, non-reactions whenever the roof incident came up. Oscar didn’t want to derail the conversation, but he had to ask. He wasn’t even sure how to ask though. "Levi... I don't... I don't scare you, do I?"

Levi understood. He shook his head and swung one leg over Oscar to straddle his waist. "I worry, but I'm not scared. I can see how hard you try, how much you want to be here. She tried too, but... she wouldn't get the help she needed. She kept it inside her like this terrible secret and never wanted anyone else to see it. Too much shame, I guess."

Oscar sat up slowly, bracing Levi’s back so he stayed in his lap. "It's a mortal sin, isn't it?” he asked, stroking along Levi’s back with one hand and threading the fingers of the other through Levi’s. “For Catholics, I mean."

"It depends. Some people believe different things. But there’s definitely…” Levi paused, heaving a big breath that Oscar felt catch in his chest. “Definitely a stigma. Though there’s a stigma even with people who aren’t Catholic, so..." He trailed off as though he’d lost sight of what he meant to say, eyes fixed on something Oscar couldn’t see.

Oscar leaned forward a little to touch his forehead to Levi’s temple. "Are you okay?"

"She…” Levi stopped and swallowed. “She wasn't a great mother. Things got worse between us the older I got. But she was still...” He pulled away from Oscar and shook his head. “I never thought she'd accept me on my own terms completely... but I hoped that someday she'd at least meet me halfway. And now she won't.” He suddenly clenched Oscar’s hand in a fierce grip, so tight it bordered on painful. “You're so fucking lucky, you know? Your mom--" But Levi abruptly stopped, dropping Oscar’s hand like a hot coal.

"I know I'm lucky.” Oscar reached out towards Levi’s face slowly, telegraphing his movement so Levi could retreat if he wanted. Levi didn’t move though, so he brushed Levi’s bangs aside and then wiped away the few, fresh tears that had escaped from the corners of Levi’s eyes. “I wish you'd been lucky too.”

Levi ducked his head and scrubbed his face with the back of one hand. “I tried to talk to her twice,” he said, blurting out the words as though they were some sort of confession. “But she hung up on me  both times. When I tried calling again, they’d both changed numbers. I should’ve gone back home, but--”

“Hey, no. No, no, no,” Oscar said, grabbing Levi’s wrist gently and tugging it aside so he could look Levi in the eye. “That’s not your fault,” he told him firmly. “Okay? She’s the one who shut you out.”

“I know it’s not my fault,” Levi said, voice cracking between syllables. “I _know_. I just… I wish things could’ve been different.” His shoulders slumped tiredly and Oscar shifted to lay back down, remembering the late hour and the morning waiting for them. Levi laid on top of him, resting his temple against Oscar’s collarbone. It couldn’t have been a very comfortable position, but Levi made no effort to move. Oscar carded his fingers through Levi’s hair and felt Levi sigh quietly against his skin.

“Were you able to talk to your father?” he asked, recalling what Levi had said earlier that morning. That first phone call felt like it’d happened weeks ago now, even though it’d yet to be a single day.

“No,” Levi said. “My aunt told him I'm coming though, so... he knows."

Oscar couldn’t help but think that sounded a little ominous. He wondered if Levi and his father would just spend the entire funeral ignoring each other. That might be the best case scenario-- except, obviously, Levi’s father apologizing for whatever had caused Levi to leave. "Whatever happens tomorrow, I'll be with you," he told Levi, tracing the shell of his ear. “And when you’re done and you want to come home, we’ll come home.”

Levi shuddered, nodded  into Oscar’s chest, and didn’t say another word.

=====

Oscar did not sit with Levi during the funeral Mass.

They entered the church together just before the ceremony was scheduled to start. Levi held Oscar’s hand in a vice grip as he scanned the pew rows. After a few moments, his fingers tightened around Oscar’s and he knew Levi had spotted who he was looking for.

“I should sit with the family for the ceremony,” he said in a low voice. He sounded both reluctant and determined.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Levi thought about it, gnawing on his bottom lip, but finally he shook his head. "I don't want to make it more awkward than it already is."

Nodding towards an empty row a few feet away, Oscar told him, "I'll be right there then."

He watched closely as Levi approached the pew near the front, making sure he wasn’t turned away. Between the distance and murmurs of the mourners, he couldn’t hear anything said, but he had a clear view.

The girl seated at the end of the row shot up once she spotted Levi, hugging him and then tugging him down to sit next to her. The older woman seated beside her looked towards Levi, nodded once in greeting, and then faced front again.

The man on the woman’s right did nothing.

Oscar did not pay much attention to the service. It was almost entirely in Spanish and peppered with too many unfamiliar words for him to follow without intense concentration. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on the back of Levi’s head and thought of Carla, weeping with both gratitude and horror as Eren and Mikasa were carried away.

=====

Levi’s mother was buried in a cemetery within walking distance of the church. Levi walked next to Oscar, holding his hand the entire way despite the occasional odd glances and rude stares they received.

Levi usually never held Oscar’s hand in public like this-- not unless Oscar had had some sort of episode. Oscar wasn’t sure if Levi was clinging to him now because he wanted comfort or because he was making a statement to his family. Probably both.

So Oscar just stroked the back of Levi’s hand with his thumb and stayed in step beside him.

During the burial, Levi wore a face made of stone. It hurt Oscar to look at him. It reminded him of the last time Eren saw the **Captain** ’s face, the lines of it hard and unable to shelter the razor sharp pain in his eyes. He felt the kiss of a phantom blade on the back of his neck and forced himself to look away from Levi.

Instead he examined the people near Levi. It was the same three from the pew. The girl, perhaps seventeen or eighteen, stood closest to Levi and stared back curiously when she caught Oscar looking. Oscar didn’t back down from the eye contact and after a long moment she smiled thinly and focused on the speaker again.

The older woman next to her was small and severe, with an almost regal bearing. She never fidgeted and her gaze on the proceedings was unwavering. It was difficult to tell since their expressions were so different, but she and the girl had the same Cupid’s bow lips and heart-shaped faces.

As in the pew, Levi and the older man were on opposite sides of the two women. The man spent most of the burial staring at the ground, shoulders slumped. But towards the end, he looked up briefly and Oscar recognized him.

The angry man who’d argued with Levi in the church parking lot all those years ago. The man with Levi’s eyes.

======

After the burial, they returned to the church for lunch. Either everyone was feeling a lot more social or the identity of the young man standing with the widower at the burial had finally clicked in their heads, because people began approaching Levi to offer their condolences.  At least, that’s what Oscar assumed they were doing because most of it was in Spanish and Oscar only understood maybe half of what was being said, depending on how fast the person spoke.

A lot of the people who came up to Levi stared at him in a rather creepy way, as though to pick him apart and determine just how male or female he was. Levi gave these people a more brusque treatment, extracting himself from the conversation as quickly as possible. But other people acted completely normal. Oscar wondered if these people were cool with Levi being trans and gay, or if they didn’t know Levi’s history and didn’t take note of the hand Oscar kept splayed on Levi’s lower back.

After a particularly long-winded old woman finally made her goodbyes to Levi and moved on, Levi looked up at Oscar and said, “You can go grab something to eat. I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” he checked. Levi nodded. “All right. Want me to fix you a plate?”

Levi glanced rather forlornly over at the long tables filled with homemade dishes, but shook his head. “No appetite.”

About ten minutes later, Oscar was savoring the best flan he'd ever eaten in his entire life when someone approached the table he was sitting at, set down a plate, and said, "Um, excuse me?"

He looked up, surprised. After all, not many people had spoken to him besides basic greetings and that had only been when he was standing beside Levi. It was the same girl that Levi had sat with during the funeral mass. From up close, he could see that her nose, chin, and hair bore a strong resemblance to Levi's. "Yeah?"

"Are you Yol-- crap.” She fiddled with some bangles on her arm and started over. “I mean, are you Levi's boyfriend?"

"Yeah.”

The girl studied him for a moment, lips pursed and eyes narrowed slightly. Finally, she declared, "You're kind of old."

"I kind of am," he agreed. "My name's Oscar."

"Ximena," she returned, claiming the chair opposite him.

Oscar had already pieced together the clues, but confirmation was nice. "The cousin that called Levi."

"Didn't call. Facebook. Took me a hell of a long time to find him." She unwrapped the corn husk from a tamale. "I came with my mom to help with the preparations and Levi wasn't there, so I asked my mom, you know, had anyone even told he-- him. So she asked my uncle. Levi's dad, I mean. He was all _noooo_. And my mom, she's really... hm, conservative, I guess? But according to her, not inviting your daughter to her mother's funeral is worse than a daughter showing up to her mother's funeral as a son. So she tore him a new one. It was epic."

She speared a massive hunk of tender tamale with her plastic fork and stuffed it into her mouth, chewing and then swallowing deeply. "Anyway, I started asking around on Facebook if anyone knew how to contact Y- Levi and after, like, a bazillion people, I found his new profile and told him."

She crammed some more tamale into her mouth, allowing Oscar a moment to absorb her whirlwind of words. "Thank you for that. Levi was... well, not glad you told him. But he appreciated it. He was very upset at the news."

Ximena nodded, still chewing her food. Oscar took the opportunity to polish off the rest of his spectacular flan, wondering if it'd be rude to go up for seconds at a funeral. And thirds.

"How long have you..."

"Dated him? Known him?"

Ximena frowned a little, jabbing at her food with the fork. "Both."

Oscar leaned back slightly in his chair to think. "I met him not long after he left home. So...about four and a half years now, I guess.” That sounded too short, but he supposed it was right. It was hard to imagine his life without Levi in it some way now. “We started dating two and a half years ago."

"And you don't mind that he's..." She trailed off, expression shuttering.

 Oscar could guess where she’d been going with her question. What he didn’t know was if she’d let her words fade because she wasn’t sure how to phrase it or because she realized her question was, in all likelihood, offensive. “It doesn’t make a difference to me.”

Ximena sighed, then grinned at him wryly. "I don't really get it. Transgender stuff, I mean. But he seems better than before, so I'm glad."

Oscar couldn’t really fault her for not getting it. After all, gender identity wasn’t the sort of thing that was usually taught at school or at home. He sure hadn’t learned anything about it until he’d met Chloe. Ximena cared enough to make an effort though, so Oscar decided he liked her.  “Are you two close?”

She brightened a bit at the question and began eating her food again instead of playing with it. “We were. I hope we still are. We’re the youngest of our generation. All my other cousins are way older than me, and the second cousins are still little kids. Not to mention most of the family’s in Mexico, so I don’t see them much and...” She trailed off, stopping her chewing as she trained her eyes on something across the room. She swallowed, then muttered, “Fuck.”

Oscar immediately spotted what had alarmed her. In the far corner of the room, secluded from everyone else, Levi’s father had Levi pinned, one hand shoving Levi’s shoulder against the wall while the other jerked in broad, furious gestures. Levi was arguing back, making no effort to escape, and Oscar knew Levi could fight his own battles, but he was on his feet and crossing the room before he knew just what he was doing. It only took a few moments to work his way through the crowd, but it felt unbearably long.

Levi’s eyes widened when he saw Oscar approaching, but his father took no notice. So Oscar laid his hand on his shoulder-- resisting the urge to dig his nails in-- and said, “Back off.”

“Stay--” But then the man turned his head to glare at Oscar and immediately stopped talking. He was about the same size as Levi, so Oscar would’ve loomed over him even if he wasn’t overflowing with barely contained rage. One part of him was screaming not to make a scene at a funeral, but the other part was consumed by the memories of the bruises that had circled Levi’s throat the night they first met.

He clenched the man’s shoulder just a bit tighter and growled, “Let him go.”

Levi’s father dropped his hand and Levi got off the wall. Once Levi was beside Oscar, he released the man’s shoulder.

But Levi’s father wasn’t done yet. He snarled something at Levi, prompting him to snap something back. Whatever Levi said made his father’s face twist and he launched into a tirade.

He’d barely began when Levi’s aunt suddenly appeared on the scene, speaking over him until he was silenced. Then she launched into her own tirade-- quieter but every bit as sharp, judging by her tone. It was all too rapid for Oscar to follow, but Levi watched with his mouth hanging slightly open in shock.

Though no one had been shouting and no punches had been thrown (as much as the latter tempted Oscar), they’d attracted a fair bit of attention. Oscar spotted Ximena among the faces turned towards them, biting her nails, and realized she must have  summoned her mother to intervene. It appeared to have been a wise move. The longer Levi’s aunt went on, the more deflated Levi’s father became until finally he leaned against the same wall he’d pinned Levi on and began to silently cry, leaving Oscar to wonder what in the world she’d said.

At that point, everyone who’d been watching immediately found something else to occupy their attention. Levi’s aunt folded her arms over her chest and told him to go wash his face. The man obeyed without a word, sulking away with the same slump that’d dragged his shoulders down during the burial.

Levi sighed, reaching out and grabbing Oscar’s hand without ever looking down. Then he announced, “ _Me voy a casa_.”

Levi’s aunt flicked her eyes away from his father’s retreating back and over to the pair of them. “ _No tienes que irte_ ,” she said firmly.

“ _No. Pero lo haré_.” He began walking, Oscar following just a half step behind, but he paused when his aunt  called for him to wait.

She unfolded her arms, hard features softening just a little. “ _Ximena te extraña_.” And then, gaze settling on Oscar for just a moment, she continued in English, “You are welcome to visit.”

Levi was still, not even seeming to breathe. But eventually he thanked her, nodded once to Ximena still hovering in the background, and they left.

Neither of them said anything as they walked together through the church parking lot. But once they reached the semi-privacy of the car, Levi let go of Oscar’s hand to rub his shoulder and Oscar said, “Sorry.”

Levi glanced at him, one eyebrow arched. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I didn’t need to step in, you were handling it. He just made me so mad.”

To his surprise, Levi chuckled. “Mad doesn’t begin to cover it. I’ve never seen you that angry before.”

Feeling a little sheepish, Oscar drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and said, “Your aunt was pretty mad too.”

“Yeah.” The mirth left Levi’s face and he turned to look through the window at the church. “Didn’t see that coming at all.”

Levi stayed that way for a while, facing away from Oscar. He wanted to ask Levi about the incident with his father, to make sure he was okay, but Levi seemed to be deep in thought. Finally, after a few quiet moments had crept by, Levi looked towards Oscar again, the taut tension gone from his face for the first time all day. Oscar couldn’t tell if the departure marked the end of something or a beginning. Whatever it was, something in Levi’s face made his heart stutter, suddenly overwhelmed by how much he loved this person before him.

“Let’s go home,” Levi said.

Oscar nodded, but didn’t start the car. He couldn’t take his eyes off Levi.

“What is it?” Levi asked.

 _Marry me_ , Oscar wanted to say. But that wasn’t the sort of thing to say to someone who’d buried their mother barely a couple hours ago. So instead he cradled the back of Levi’s head with his hand, leaned forward, and kissed him gently on the mouth.

It lasted only a few seconds, but in that moment’s span he couldn’t help but think that if Eren Yeager had lived for the hope of the outside world, then Oscar lived to be happy with Levi.

He pulled away and Levi blinked at him, just a bit dazed. Oscar smiled. “All right. Let’s go home.”

=====

The rest of fall was little more than a blur. When Oscar wasn’t at work, he was busy trying to get his graduate applications together. Several of the deadlines loomed in early December, with the rest lying in wait during January, so it was a shock to wake up one morning and realize winter had already arrived.

He was filled with frantic, buzzing energy, calming down only a little when Levi returned to their apartment for the break. Levi was tense too, since he was trying to cram for the second actuarial exam that he was registered to take at the end of the  month. Apparently he hadn’t gotten to study as much as he wanted to over the semester, which left him with barely over two weeks to review everything he needed to know for the test.

Oscar’s hyperarousal made it impossible for him to sit quietly for long since he’d almost immediately begin fidgeting and then leap up to find something to occupy his overactive sense with. Levi couldn’t study in the same room as him, so he reviewed as much as possible while Oscar was at work. On the weekends and days when Oscar simply couldn’t go in, Levi would take Oscar’s car to the library.

It was on one such Saturday that two sharp knocks rang from the door, startling Oscar so badly that he dropped the mug he was washing and it shattered on the floor. He stared at the pieces, heart racing for a few moments before he finally got himself back under control. By the time Oscar opened the door, the person was gone. In their place was an envelope stuck halfway under the door mat. Oscar pulled it out, running his fingers over its front and the characters written there.

It was addressed to Eren Yeager.

He tore open the envelope carefully and extracted the short note, unfolding it to read:

**I’m sorry for hitting you. When I saw you, I was suddenly so mad. But I suppose what happened in Sina wasn’t really your fault. So I’m sorry.**

It took a moment for Oscar to realize what the letter was referring to because he first looked for the answer in the memories left by Eren’s ghost. But no, he was certain that what the writer was apologizing for was hitting him with the motor scooter over a year ago.

He wondered if he should be concerned that someone who once put him in the hospital had somehow figured out where he lived.

The letter was signed with a name he didn’t recognize, a Markus Pickney, followed by the name of a **Military Police** squad. Oscar stared at the note, then folded it back up and slid it into the envelope.

Someone Markus Pickney cared about must have died during the attempt to capture Annie in **Sina**. Or maybe he’d died himself. The destruction caused by Eren and Annie’s fight had resulted in dozens of deaths and injuries. Before dying himself, Eren had run into many people who bore him a grudge for the incident. None of them had ever tried to assault Eren for it, but Oscar could understand being overwhelmed by a past life’s anger. After all, he fought emotions from Eren’s ghost all the time.

Oscar turned the envelope over in his hands, wondering what to do with it. It didn’t seem right to throw it out. A late apology was better than no apology. But he couldn’t just leave it lying around where Levi might see it and question him about the source of its language.

He wound up wedging the envelope into the same chemistry textbook where he kept Hassan’s business card, and then put it out of mind. He didn’t have the emotional energy to worry about things that weren’t deadlines.

=====

 **I feel like I owe you an apology too, though I’m not sure what for. Maybe for** Eren **leaving before he could fulfill all his promises. I don’t think** Mikasa **would’ve accepted the apology. She certainly wouldn’t have if** Eren **had tried. But perhaps you’d accept it from me.**

 **I’ll tell you someday. I’ll do my best to, anyway. I don’t know how I’ll do it since it feels like our lives can never cross, but I won’t give up.** Mikasa **deserves that much. And I do too.**

=====

Oscar usually brought lunch to work, but on this day he’d forgotten it on the counter at home. He blamed this absent-mindedness (rather bitterly) on the fact that his nerves were completely shot due to graduate admissions letters. Rejection letters, really, because that was all he’d received so far. One by post, one by email. Oscar had only applied to four programs, so that was half of his hopes down the drain.

Ever since the first letter had shown up in his mail box, Oscar had truly become an anxious wreck, jittery and agitated and plain foul-tempered. When he wasn’t at work, he was glued to his computer screen, feverishly refreshing Grad Café. When he was at work, he was distracted by thoughts of how it could be weeks or months before he heard back from the other two programs and how they probably wouldn’t accept him either, he was a complete mess and probably wouldn’t be able to handle it anyway, and so on.

Levi, usually his refuge at times like these, was deep in his final semester of college and operating at stress and exhaustion levels that rivaled Oscar’s anxiety. It made Levi even more closed off than usual and atypically snappish. After three brief but utterly senseless arguments, they mutually decided it’d be best to limit daily communication until at least one of them was in better headspace. So Louise, Chloe, Alexis, and even Holly became Oscar’s outlets for dark and self-deprecating texting and while they weren’t as effective as diffusing Oscar as Levi usually was, he still managed to get through each day somehow.

Still, it was no surprise to Oscar to realize he’d forgotten his lunch. The lab had a small cafeteria, but Oscar knew better than to eat there. So he journeyed out the lab and down a few blocks to where a tasty deli was nestled between several other restaurants and businesses. After picking up a sandwich and drink, he began the walk back to work.

Footsteps pounded on the pavement behind him and suddenly someone seized his arm, forcing him to a halt. Oscar turned around to look at his pursuer and discovered a women in a hijab, bent over and panting even as she clung to his arm.

“Do you need—” he started. But then the woman looked up, chest still heaving, and he recognized her. “Ymir?!”

She grinned lopsidedly, pleased that he'd remembered her. Then she dropped her head again and let go of his arm to brace herself on both knees as she caught her breath. Her breathing seemed really ragged, so Oscar asked. “Are you all right?” Ymir nodded, but he had a hard time believing her; she sounded terrible. He extended his cup to her. “Want some iced tea? It's unsweetened though.”

Ymir snatched the cup from his hand, removed the plastic lid, and straightened up to drink in tiny sips that seemed almost delicate. By the time she handed the cup back to him, she'd stopped panting but still hadn't said a word. “Do you speak English?” Oscar checked as he accepted the half empty cup from her.

Ymir rolled her eyes and nodded. She pointed at her throat, then made a vague, negative gesture. “Can't,” she rasped in a voice barely more than a whisper.

“Oh.”

Ymir dug into her pants pockets and pulled out a phone before dragging Oscar by the arm into the shade of the nearest building.  Once they were out of the way of all passersby, her fingers flew over the touchscreen keyboard and she thrust her phone under his nose.

_You walk too fucking fast._

“Sorry?” He'd barely gotten the second syllable out before she'd started typing something new.

_Have you met anyone else?_

Ymir had never been one for pleasantries.“Mina from our training class and Bertolt, and Captain Levi, but he doesn't remember,” he said, counting off on his fingers. He didn't mention Isabel or Petra since Ymir wouldn't know either of them. “I know where Mikasa is, but she doesn't remember either. Armin... I know that Armin is dead here.”

Ymir's mouth twitched with interest and she tapped out, _Are you in contact with Bertolt?_

Oscar swallowed down the sudden surge of anger and managed to answer in a normal tone. “No, but if you give me your number, I can pass his information on to you. I know a useful website too.”

Ymir nodded and passed her phone over to him. He exited her memo and dutifully dialed his own phone's number, making a mental note to save her contact info later. “What about you?” he asked. “Have you met anyone?”

 _No one you'd know. A few years ago, I saw Jean in Nairobi. He was a toddler though._ She began to type something else, but then a woman called, “Zohra!” and Ymir looked up from her phone.

Another woman wearing a hijab stormed towards them, shouting “I can't believe you fucking left me with the check, you—” The last word was in a language Oscar didn't recognize, but it sounded like a swear. “What in the world were you doing, dashing off like that?” The newcomer glared at Oscar as though it was his fault she'd been abandoned. He supposed it probably was.

Ymir— Zohra— put her phone away and answered her companion in sign language. The other woman spluttered, “What—” and “You—” a couple of times, but Zohra did not let her get a word in.

Finally, Zohra lowered her hands and the woman shot a glance at Oscar before replying in sign language as well. The pair of them went back and forth for a bit— arguing, Oscar was sure— before finally the other woman threw her hands up in the air and said, “Fine! Whatever, I don't even care.” She stalked away, grumbling audibly.

Zohra turned towards Oscar and smiled ruefully, pulling her phone out again. _I've only got five minutes before she's couching me for the night._

“Maybe you'd better go after her now. She looked pretty pissed.”

Zohra laughed. It was a strange sound, more breath than anything else. _Nah, if she was REALLY mad, she wouldn't say anything at all._ Zohra glanced up at him slyly and then typed out, _Besides, I can tell you want to ask me something. It's all over your face._

There was something, a long unanswered question that had pushed to the forefront of his mind once it’d registered that he was speaking to the woman who was once Ymir, a **Titan Shifter**. He licked his lips, wondering where even to begin.

“The other people I’ve met who have remembered… they seem fine. Like the memories don’t bother them. But me...” Oscar crossed his arms over his chest uncomfortably. “Ever since Eren’s ghost came in, it’s like I’ve been lost or something. I have bad flashbacks and nightmares and I get depressed and anxious and just… sick. His memories make me sick. So I was wondering if it’s because he was a **Shifter** , or if--” But Oscar cut himself off because Zohra was watching him with a very odd expression. “What?”

She screwed her mouth into a peculiar position and typed, _Ever since Eren’s ghost came in? His memories?_

“Yes,” Oscar confirmed, though he wasn’t really sure what she was asking.

Zohra bit her lip. _I can tell you for sure it’s not because of that._ She lowered one hand towards the ground and raised it back up to indicate **Shifting** , since the characters couldn’t be typed.

“How can you know for sure?”

Zohra glanced away from him, then frowned down at her phone and slowly tapped out, _Because something like that happened to me two lives ago and I wasn’t remembering anything like that._

Oscar stared down at her phone screen as the message sunk in. “Two lives ago… you mean… it keeps going back? I thought there was only the life with Titans before this one.”

 She shook her head. _I don’t know how far back it goes. But it goes further than that, if things work out for you to remember._ Her fingers waggled briefly over the keyboard as though she were about to type more, but then she put the phone away and withdrew a small notepad and pen from her pocket instead. She flipped the notepad to a clean page and then gestured for Oscar to look.

She drew lines to divide the page into four panels. In the first, she wrote _Earliest life I remember_ at the top and drew a stick figure of a young girl with 11 beneath her. Below 11, she wrote something in a scratchy script that Oscar did not recognize at all-- the girl’s name, he supposed. In the next panel, she drew a male stick figure with 14 beneath and another name Oscar couldn’t read. In the third panel, she drew a woman and wrote Ymir with a question mark beneath where the age should be. She scrawled at the very bottom, _I thought all those years I spent as a **Titan** would break the chain somehow, but I guess not._ Finally, in the last box, she wrote this life and drew herself with জোহরা written beneath.

Oscar examined the picture, slowly understanding. “So since you died young over and over, the memories keep piling up?”

Zohra nodded, but then she squeezed a note beside her drawings. _You have to have the right sort of personality too. You can’t dismiss the memories as daydreaming or you won’t remember properly. Some people also don’t remember well because their past memories aren’t vivid enough for whatever reason._

Oscar remembered what Holly had said about Gunther not remembering anything and wondered if that was what happened with him. He pointed to the second panel Zohra had drawn. “And here, this is when you had the same problem as me?”

Zohra’s mouth crooked into a shape that was not quite a smile. She shook one hand in a loose gesture that Oscar interpreted as _More or less_.

“How did you fix it then? How can I...”

But Zohra was wagging one finger in a manner that definitely meant _No_. She put the notepad away and took out her phone again. _You can’t FIX it. There’s something that might make it a little easier, but I don’t think it’ll work if I tell you. You have to realize on your own._

Oscar wanted to protest, but Zohra was already checking the time on her phone. _I have to go. Don’t be a stranger!_

“Bye,” Oscar said, and he watched her disappear back into the crowd. Maybe when he got home, he could text her and pry the answer out of her.

But when he did finally get off work and returned to the apartment, thoughts of badgering Zohra soon disappeared from his head. Instead he called Levi, a large envelope clenched in his free hand.

“Hello?” Levi answered.

“Look for jobs in Austin.”

“Wha--” Levi stopped. “You got in?”

“I got in!” Oscar repeated, barely restraining himself from bouncing on his heels.

“That was the one with the professor you really liked too, right?”

“Yes!”

“Oscar, wow, that’s great. Yeah, okay, I’ll--” Someone in the background yelled teasingly at Levi to get off the phone. He shouted back, “I’ll be done in a minute, my boyfriend just got into fucking graduate school!” Several whoops and cries of congratulations echoed on the other end. One of the voices sounded like Raj. “You hear that?” Levi asked.

Oscar couldn’t stop beaming. “Yeah.”

“I’ve got to get back to work, but I’ll call you later tonight, okay?”

Oscar agreed and hung up, grinning like a fool at the phone in one hand and the envelope in the other. He got in. He was going.

Suddenly, a memory gleamed in the darkness of his mind, beckoning him. Before he knew it, he’d been pulled in.

_The trees look tiny down below, even smaller than when Eren is a **Titan**. The valley appears to stretch forever, green and breath-taking, but it must end eventually. After all, somewhere out there is an ocean._

_Beside him, he knows Mikasa and Armin are staring at him rather than the scenery laid out before them. He can feel their watchful eyes and almost tells them to cut it out, to look their fill at this landscape. But he doesn’t. He supposes Mikasa and Armin will be coming back here eventually. They’ll go even further than this, see so many more things._

_Perhaps later, Eren will be sad that he’ll never get that chance. Perhaps later he will be mad. But right now, he just wants to feel the warm sun on his face, smell the earthy scent hanging in the breeze, and take in the sight._

_The world is so beautiful without walls._

He blinked, only somewhat surprised to find himself standing in the apartment that had become so intimately familiar over the years. He’s more startled by the tears spilling over and running down his cheeks. Still smiling, he set the phone down-- reluctant to let go of the acceptance letter in case it vanished into thin air-- and wiped his face.

It was so easy to forget that not every memory Eren left him was bad. Some of them deserved to remembered after death.

=====

Levi graduated magna cum laude on a sunny Friday in May. Just as he had for Levi’s high school graduation, Oscar took several photos to send to Lien and Holly. Unlike his high school graduation, Oscar did not attend alone.

“Ximena and my aunt are coming,” Levi warned Oscar when he stopped by the dorm to help Levi pack up for the last time.

“Really?” Oscar asked. He’d known that Levi had been speaking with them both since his mother’s funeral, but considering they lived in Oklahoma, it never crossed his mind that they might come to the ceremony.

“Yeah. And they said they want to sit with you, if that’s okay.” Levi grimaced a little and added, “I’m pretty sure they’re planning to interrogate you.”

“Oh. That’s kind of sweet.”

Levi grunted as he shoved a box into Oscar’s trunk. “Sweet?”

“I mean, they want to hear what my intentions are towards you and see if I’m good enough for you, right?” If he had a nephew that was dating a man ten years older than him, Oscar would probably want to interrogate him too. He thought it was rather encouraging that Levi’s aunt cared enough to be concerned for him.

Levi was doubtful though. He wiped his brow and shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s like that.”

Levi had to leave early for the ceremony, so Oscar finished packing and cleaning the dorm alone and turned in Levi’s key. When he was done, he texted Ximena at the number Levi had given him and met the pair of women outside the hall. Ximena greeted him enthusiastically, almost as though they were old friends.

However, her mother was much cooler. “Nice to meet you. You can call me Josefina,” she said. Unlike Levi and Ximena, her English was heavily accented and she spoke each word with care. The hand she held out was dainty, but her stony expression reminded Oscar of a dragon. He wondered if Levi had inherited some of his demeanor from her.

“It’s nice to meet you too. I’m Oscar,” he returned, shaking her hand firmly. Her nails, he noticed, were blood red.

That was all she said to him for a while, letting Ximena control the conversation. The girl was just as inquisitive as she’d been at the funeral, quizzing Oscar on where he’d gone to school and what he did for work and how his full name was pronounced and what his family was like. Oscar answered all her questions, watching Josefina from the corner of his eye all the while. Although she pretended to be busy flipping through the graduation program, Oscar sensed that she was absorbing and judging his every word.

Ximena chatted with him right up until the ceremony started, at which point her mother shushed her. The speeches were as long-winded and dull as they’d been at Oscar’s commencement, so he scanned the sea of graduates and tried to spot Levi. Everyone was dressed the same though, so he gave it up as impossible and waited until the speaker called him.

When Levi’s name was finally read and he crossed the stage, Ximena cheered so loudly that Levi’s eyes found them in the crowd immediately. He grinned broadly up at them, the sort of unreserved smile he so rarely wore that made Oscar’s heart flip whenever he caught sight of it.

He hoped suddenly that somehow Eren Yeager was watching. This pride, this joy. This was what he’d fought, what he’d died for.  This was what humanity deserved.

=====

After the ceremony was over and Oscar was satisfied with the number of pictures he'd gotten of Levi in his graduation garb, all four of them went out for an early dinner. Where to eat was a subject of great debate, with Levi turning down several suggestions because they’d be too crowded and Ximena rejecting more than one idea with a stuck-out tongue. Finally, they wound up at tiny Mediterranean place a decent distance from campus.

Ximena continued to dominate the conversation, though she’d shifted most of her focus to Levi. She wanted to know what he’d been up to, if he’d heard the news about this-or-that family friend, and to tell him all about her high school life thus far. Levi only contributed perhaps one sentence for her every five, but he seemed amused by his cousin’s chatter. Watching Levi interact with her, Oscar properly understood how Levi was able to keep up with Louise’s unrestrained manner despite his own low-key personality.  

Oscar and Josefina stayed on the sidelines, speaking when addressed directly and only occasionally jumping in on their own volition. Oscar held Levi’s hand under the table, stroking his fingers and listening idly as the two cousins caught up. Josefina ate her dish in a slow, methodical fashion-- one delicate bite at a time. Despite her apparent focus on her food, Oscar could tell she was paying close attention to everyone at the table and felt Josefina’s gaze on him whenever he was turned away.

They’d been at the restaurant for close to two hours when Josefina finally set her utensils down, dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, and asked, “Oscar?”

The two syllables were quiet and perfectly calm, but Ximena stopped talking mid-sentence and a tense atmosphere immediately surrounded the table. Oscar separated his hand from Levi’s, feeling as though he’d just walked into a job interview. “Yes?”

Josefina took a long drink from her glass of water, setting it down on the table with soft clunk. “You understand why I might be... hesitant, is the word? Hesitant to accept this.” Her hand waved in a tight, graceful movement between Oscar and Levi, as though to encompass every detail about the two of them in one gesture.

Oscar wasn’t sure if she meant the age gap, the interracial relationship, the homosexuality, Levi being transgender, some of those things, or all of those things. And while he may not agree with any of those reservations, he could certainly understand them, so he answered, “Yes ma’am.”

She tapped one finger lightly against the side of her glass. “But Levi is telling me that he is very serious about it. In fact, what he says to me is _eres lo mejor que le ha pasado_. Do you know what I am saying?”

Oscar nodded, aware of Levi shifting uncomfortably in his seat beside him. He wondered if Levi was blushing, but didn’t dare look away from Josefina for even a second. “I feel the same way.”

“Is that so? Then, what exactly is it about him that you like? If I can ask.”

Levi covered his face with both hands and muttered, “ _Dios de mi vida_.” He lowered them after just a moment and said to Oscar, “You don’t have to answer her, I told her not to--”

“--It’s fine,” Oscar interrupted. “You want to know why I love him?”

Josefina arched one eyebrow at the word love, then inclined her head every so slightly. “Yes.”

Oscar placed both his hands on the table, palms open and empty. “I love Levi’s determination. He knows what he wants and he works hard to get it. I love his bravery and his resilience. I love that he doesn’t back down just because someone else thinks he should be ashamed. I love that he doesn’t let me get away with any bulls-- nonsense, but he’s still patient with me when I’m having a bad day. I love that he knows I don’t need someone to take care of me, but that he still wants to and does. And I know Levi doesn’t need me to take care of him, but I love that he lets me anyway because I want to.”

On the edge of his vision, Oscar could see Levi blushing fiercely. Beside her mother, Ximena’s eyes were wide, as though she was watching a riveting movie scene. Josefina stared Oscar down for a long moment after he finished speaking, her gaze boring through Oscar’s skin to examine his insides.

Finally, after Oscar was about ready to start squirming himself, Josefina nodded once and said, “All right.” Then she picked up her water and finished off the last remaining sips as though nothing in particular had occurred.

“All right?” Levi echoed.

Josefina looked at him over the rim of her glass and said something in Spanish that was too fast for Oscar to follow. Whatever it was made Ximena giggle nervously and Levi flush a darker pink. Oscar silently resolved to work harder on his listening comprehension.

They departed not long after that, both parties having long drives back home. Once they were alone in the car, Levi tugged Oscar until he leaned awkwardly over the armrest and kissed him, hands spread possessively across Oscar’s back. He pulled back after a moment and breathed Oscar’s name against his neck.

“Yeah?” Oscar asked lowly.

“I… it’s hard to explain.” Oscar carded his fingers through Levi’s hair and Levi buried his face deeper into Oscar’s shoulder. “From the very beginning… I felt like you see me the way I wish everyone saw me. And then you had to go and be kind and loyal and strong and so fucking embarrassing too.”

Oh. Oscar chuckled, a strange warmth fluttering in his chest. He remembered his mother’s words from over a year ago: He looks at you like you hung the moon. He felt, for the first time, that he could fully believe it. “You didn’t stand a chance, huh?” he teased.

“Shut up,” Levi grumbled. “I’m trying to tell you why I love you.”

“I know.” He brushed Levi’s bangs aside to kiss his temple. “Thank you, Levi.”

=====

It turned out that Levi’s confidence about his job prospects was not misplaced. It took a month, dozens of applications, several phone interviews, and one trip out to Austin, but Levi landed a job-- and one that paid more than enough to support both of them while Oscar went to school. Oscar, who’d grown up for most of his childhood on his single mother’s freelance artist wages, could hardly believe Levi’s starting salary.

“I should’ve majored in statistics,” he said, only half joking.

Levi laughed. “You would’ve hated it.”

Things were hectic after that. Levi took charge of finding them a place to live in Austin, leaving Oscar to negotiate the end of his lease with the crabby landlord. Before he knew it, it was time to put in his two-week notice at the lab.

The day he submitted it, Oscar had a panic attack, suddenly riddled with anxiety that he was making a massive mistake. He didn’t love his job, but it was a lot better than other jobs and it was something he knew he could handle. What if he couldn’t handle graduate school after all? Some much stuff was changing so quickly-- what if his health got worse? What if Levi-- he couldn’t even think it.

Levi stayed near him until the attack ran its course, repeating reassurances quietly and waiting until Oscar reached for him before touching him.

“I’m okay,” Oscar gasped when he felt like he could breathe again. “Alexis says-- change is just hard. Even good change.”

And it was good change, though it took finally moving out for Oscar to really embrace it. He’d never realized how much stuff he’d managed to acquire over the years, especially considering that the apartment didn’t have much space for stuff. But as he packed up for the big move, he became increasingly astounded by how much he’d stashed away in each corner of the place. Here was the biology textbook he’d thought he’d lost ages ago. Here was not one, not two, but three pairs of Chinos he didn’t remember buying. Here was five half-empty bottles of prescriptions that didn’t work out for one reason or another—it made him too drowsy, it made him too light-headed, it made him want to die.

He was sorting the contents of the coat closet into keep, donate, and trash piles when he spotted the wooden box shoved in the back. Oscar blankly stared at the unassuming object for a moment before realizing what it was. Engin’s box, bestowed upon Oscar as part of his absent father’s will. Keep, he decided, just a bit begrudgingly.

He pulled it out, wiping dust from its top and sides. As he did, he felt a loose panel shift slightly. He examined the panel, until it slid as far back as it would go, just an inch or two.

A puzzle box. Wasn’t that what Levi called it? _You have to press or slide certain things to find the way in,_ he’d said. Oscar tapped the top of the box, listening to the hollow sound it made. What was inside? Neither Engin’s note nor the executor’s letter had given any hints that he could recall.

If it’d really belonged to his grandmother, perhaps she’d kept jewelry inside it. No, he thought, shaking the box from side to side. The wood was thick, but even still he’d be able to hear jewelry clunking around if there was any. Something soft and light, most likely. Another note from Engin? Hell, a fucking treasure map?

Oscar sat down in the recliner, puzzle box still clutched in his hands, and stared down at it, conflicted. Now that he’d started thinking about what might be inside, he needed to know. But if he succumbed to the box’s temptation, it felt like he’d be losing somehow. Losing what and to whom, he wasn’t sure. Maybe he was just being stubborn.

He traced the lines of the wolf carved into the top, the wood smooth beneath his fingers. It was just a box. His box, now. Oscar could do with it as he wanted, and that included opening it. Nobody else had to know.

So Oscar re-examined the sliding panel he’d found, poking the other parts of the box around it. Eventually he discovered another section that slid too, opening a hole in the box’s bottom that opened wider and wider until a metal key fell out.

Okay. Then where was the keyhole?

After several minutes of quietly cursing and shaking the box and jabbing its every crevice, Oscar succeeded in unveiling the keyhole from its hiding place behind a panel. He slid the key into the hole and turned it. A lock clicked.

Heart thumping rapidly in his chest, Oscar lifted the lid and peered inside.

Nothing. It was empty.

With frantic fingers, Oscar explored the edges of the wooden box’s interior, searching for a false bottom or a pull-out panel or a concealed chamber. But there was none.

Inexplicably angry, Oscar shoved the box aside none too gently. Empty. Nothing but a box.  Why had Engin even fucking sent it? What the fuck was the point of a puzzle box if it wasn’t holding something?

 _The box is the point,_ the still-rational corner of his brain pointed out. _It’s a lovely piece of work and part of your history. And Engin never claimed something was in there. You just assumed._

Just a box. Nothing else in it. Just—

Oh. _Oh._

Something-- not a lock, but _something_ \-- clicked.

And suddenly, the gaping, gray expanse of his mind shrank smaller and smaller, the lights in the distance coming closer and closer until their rays converged into a single brilliant dawn. For the first time in years, Oscar’s sight penetrated all the way into his mind. He stared into every corner and saw that there was nothing else in it. No ghost, no echo, no specter. And of course there was nothing one else. After all, it was his mind. His.

He is Eren Yeager.

He reaches out and touches the wolf carving on the box’s top. His box. Oscar’s box. He stands, picks up the box, and places it in the Keep pile before turning slowly around and examining the familiar features of Oscar’s apartment. His apartment.

He is Oscar, Özgür Gözübüyük.

He is both. No, he is one. All the surges of emotions he blamed on Eren’s ghost were his. All the nightmares and bad memories that plagued him were his. He is different now because he grew up in Oscar’s world, just as Eren was shaped by his world. But he was always the same. Just as whoever came before Eren was the same and just as whoever comes after Oscar will be the same.

This must be what Zohra-- Ymir-- had refused to tell him that day. _I don’t think it’ll work if I tell you,_ she’d said. _You have to realize it on your own._

And she was right. Oscar had always balked at the suggestion that he and Eren were the same because he didn’t want to think of his life, his identity, as coming after Eren’s in anyway. He didn’t want to think of himself as lesser somehow or not as valuable. Oscar didn’t want to lose to Eren.

But it isn’t like that. There is no competition, no battle over whose emotions and memories will rule his mind and body. There is nothing else inside him but himself. He does not need to fight to establish a boundary between Eren’s life and Oscar’s because it is his past, his present.

Eren is Oscar. Oscar is Eren. It is so ludicrously simple, yet it’d taken him about a third of his life to see. He is--

“Oscar?”

He turns to Levi, standing in the doorway with a heavy box in his arms. Levi, who so thoroughly resembles the **Captain** , even without the man’s memories. He’d recognized Levi as the **Captain** right away, just as he had for all the others. Even though none of them look like their former selves, he always knew them instinctively because they were the same as they’d always been.

How had he not seen?

Levi stares at him, frowning, and says, “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He shakes his head and laughs. “No ghost.” He looks down at the puzzle box, empty and meaningful all the same, and smiles. “I’m all right.”

He is. And he will be.

He will be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> re: majoring in Statistics- True story, my sister majored in Statistic and she (and the half dozen other Stat majors she graduated with) had ridiculously high-paying jobs within months. I SHOULD'VE MAJORED IN STATISTICS.
> 
> That's all, folks. Well, not quite. The epilogue will be coming along soon (hopefully), which will address some of the remaining loose ends. Please look forward to it! 
> 
> This chapter was a beast to write, so I hope it met expectations. Let me know what you think!


	8. EPILOGUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which we finally get to the title of this fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE: Content warning for blood on this chapter. Let me know if you have questions by messaging me on tumblr (zhedang.tumblr.com)
> 
> I first conceived this story in December of 2013. I didn't start actually writing it until January of 2015. In the span of time from idea conception to posting the first chapter, loads of things about the story changed. 
> 
> But the epilogue-- which was the very FIRST scene I ever imagined-- has always stayed (more or less) the same. I've been waiting a very long time to finally post it.
> 
> Which is why I am extremely glad to present the final installment of The Rest of Their Lives. I hope you enjoy it.

**EPILOGUE**

"Oh my god, what are you still doing here?"

Levi glanced up from his two computer screens, though the model and spreadsheets were still burned into his retinas. Ngozi from Accounting was standing in the open doorway of his office, a pencil tucked behind each ear as per usual.

"You're still here," he pointed out. He glanced furtively at the clock display on the bottom of his main monitor. Damn, it really was late though.

"Yeah, but nobody's waiting for me at home except Frank," Ngozi said, naming their Venus Fly Trap. They had regaled Levi with tales of Frank for weeks at the coffee station before he figured out it was a fucking plant.

Levi rubbed his dry eyes. "I'm taking Friday off, so I've got to have this done by Thursday," he explained, making a vague, derisive gesture towards his computer.

"You? Take a day off?" Ngozi leaned against the doorway, smirking in a manner Levi definitely did not like. "What is it? Apocalypse?"

"...Anniversary," he said.

"Ooooh," Ngozi cooed. "You got hot plans with Professor Sexy?"

Levi began exiting all the running programs on his computer so he could escape. It was late and Ngozi was apparently in the mood to tease. "Don't call him that," he said, though it was probably a useless effort. He wasn't even sure Ngozi remembered Oscar's real name at this point, even though they’d met him on several different occasions.

Ngozi just tipped their head back and laughed, automatically catching the pencil that slipped free from their right ear. "Hey," they said, spinning the pencil deftly in their fingers. "I've been wondering something."

"What?" Levi asked, cramming his things into his bag.

"He's, like, ten years older than you, right? How'd you even meet?"

Levi shot Ngozi a glance over his monitor as he shut the computer down. He didn't usually indulge questions about his personal life because it was _personal_ , but he did like Ngozi. Even if they were a little grating sometimes. So he said, "At a Denny's."

"Seriously? That's so boring."

Levi decided not to mention he'd only been a high schooler at the time, nor that he'd stormed out of his parent's house with no intention of ever returning just hours before. "What were you expecting?"

Ngozi tapped the pencil against their mouth. "Mm, I don't know. That you'd answered his sugar daddy ad or something."

"Do people really do that?"

Ngozi's grin was all white teeth and wry humor. "I knew a gal. Remind me to tell you that story sometime, it's pretty good."

Levi shouldered his messenger bag and checked that he hadn't left anything behind on his desk. "I'm heading out," he said.

Ngozi let him through the door. "Lunch tomorrow?" they asked.

"Yeah. Good night."

\------

Since it was a Tuesday night, Levi was eating his re-heated dinner while Oscar told him about his day when the usual video call came. Oscar stopped talking mid-sentence, head immediately inclining towards the strange beeping sound the program made. He looked back to Levi ruefully.

"Go ahead," Levi said, waving his fork. He had a bunch of reports he should look over anyway. "You can tell me the rest later."

Oscar kissed his temple, ("Sap," Levi thought fondly) and went to answer the call. Levi listened absently as Oscar greeted Jiahua, opening his own laptop to find the right files. He was probably going to have to pull a late night to wrap up everything before the end of Thursday.

Soon his dinner lay forgotten as he squinted at the rows of data. Something just wasn't quite right. He couldn't find anything off in the numbers, nor in his subordinate’s reports, but in his gut, he knew. In the background, Oscar and his friend chattered in a mix of English and Chinese. After decades of study, Oscar’s Chinese was pretty good. That’s what Jiahua claimed at least, though Levi suspected she was being a little generous with that assessment. After all, his Spanish was still far from fluent and it was much easier to learn.

Every now and then, a few word or phrases of something that definitely wasn't English or Chinese slipped into their conversation. And Levi knew, no matter what Oscar tried to imply, that it wasn't Turkish either. He'd suspected from the start that it wasn’t Turkish and his suspicions had been confirmed ages ago when Louise lamented to Levi that she’d never been able to convince Oscar to study his father’s language.

Levi hadn't pushed back then and he still didn't because as much as Oscar wore his heart on his sleeve, he was far from an open book. There had always been something furtive about Oscar, something that he held back from Levi even after all these years.

But Levi did not begrudge Oscar his secrets. After all, there were plenty private pieces of himself that he’d never shown to him. Like the reason why he did not like to be held down, or the story behind the burn scar on his forearm, or the full truth of why he’d agreed to go to Oscar’s apartment the first night they’d met.

So he did not mind that Oscar concealed his fluency in an unknown language with white lies, or that he’d never spoken of where his PTSD came from or what haunted him in flashbacks and nightmares. They were essential puzzle pieces that made up who Oscar was, but Levi loved the whole of Oscar, not a collection of jagged parts. He wanted Oscar to take him in the same way.

Since Oscar had woken up early because of a nightmare last night, he’d probably turn in once he finished his weekly call with Jiahua. Levi gave up on the data for the moment and got ready for bed, so he wouldn’t disturb Oscar when he finally went to sleep himself. It was summer, so after he brushed his teeth he just stripped down to his underwear before returning to his laptop. He scratched at the surgery scars on his chest absentmindedly as he scrolled slowly through the data for perhaps the hundredth time. He still wasn’t sure what it was about the numbers that bothered him, he just knew something was wrong. Shaking his head, he forced himself to minimize the window and instead started reviewing the reports he needed to go over.

He was so absorbed in typing up his comments that he didn’t notice that Oscar had finished with Jiahua until Oscar was leaning over his shoulder. “Still at it?” Oscar asked, carding his fingers through Levi’s hair.

Levi just hummed in response, equally distracted by the file on his screen and Oscar’s gentle touch just above the ticklish spot behind his ear. He knew it peeved Oscar endlessly that he only had a few stray strands of gray hair while Oscar’s hair was more salt than pepper. That didn’t stop Oscar from finger-combing Levi’s hair from temple to nape whenever he got the chance

“Coming to bed any time soon?”

Levi considered the number of reports he still had to deal with to be happy with his progress. “Not for a few hours,” he admitted.

Oscar sighed. “You’re going to work yourself into an early grave.”

  
His tone was light, but Levi tensed anyway. It was an old argument, dating back to when his father had a heart attack in his auto shop twenty-five years ago. He had only been fifty-nine and Oscar seemed convinced that Levi was doomed to a similar fate.

Personally, Levi didn’t think Oscar had much room to talk since he had also had a penchant for late nights whenever research was going especially well (or poorly). But Levi didn’t want to drag all that out right now. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and said, “I’ll get plenty of rest this weekend.”

Thankfully, Oscar didn’t seem to want to argue either. He stroked Levi’s hair one final time, then stepped around Levi to face him properly. “At least wear your glasses,” he said, pressing Levi’s glasses case into his hand.

Levi accepted it grudgingly and put them on. Oscar beamed at him and even though Levi had seen that smile thousands of times by now, it still made his heart drum against his rib cage, fluttering like a bird taking flight.

“I don’t understand why you don’t like wearing them,” Oscar commented, framing Levi’s face with his hands. “They make you look very distinguished.”

Levi shrugged, not in the mood to explain that the only blood relatives he had who needed glasses at his age were all women. It was a silly thing to be insecure about, but he couldn’t help it. None of the other men in his family had ever worn glasses until they were well into their seventies. Or maybe they had needed glasses and their excessive machismo prevented them from admitting it. Either way, his own failing eyesight at fifty-one felt like just one more way his body had betrayed him. “I just don’t.”

Levi could see from Oscar’s expression that he knew it was more than that, but Oscar-- who was always respectful of boundaries-- didn’t prod further. He loved Oscar for that, so he reached up to cover Oscar’s hands with his own and promised, “Two more hours, then I’ll call it quits.”

Oscar’s thumbs stroked Levi’s cheekbones and he angled Levi’s head carefully to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Two hours,” he repeated mock sternly, and then he left Levi to it.

So Levi got back to work, hunched over his computer in a way he’d regret come morning but unwilling to break his comfortable slouch. He knew he could pass off at least some of the tasks to one of his subordinates, but with the indeterminable wrongness of the data set, he found he didn’t quite trust anyone else with the project.

But the longer he pored over the data and was unable to pinpoint any issue, the more he began to think it was all in his head. He’d been feeling off for days, catching odd glimpses in the corner of his vision that vanished as soon as he turned his head. His focus had been swinging between constant distraction and absolute absorption in whatever task he was working on with little in-between. Perhaps he just needed to sleep more. Well, the sooner he got this project out the door, the sooner he’d be able to relax.

He managed to make decent progress on the reports before he hit his two-hour deadline, though the data set continued to bother him. Levi saved his work and put away his laptop, hoping that sleep would give him a fresh outlook in the morning on the numbers. He stood up with a yawn, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes with both hands.

When he pulled his hands away, they were covered with blood.

Levi stared at his red-stained hands dully for a moment. But after he blinked twice and the blood was still there, the shock set in like a jolt of electricity.

Frantic, he touched his eyes but they were perfectly dry, fine, no blood. He pulled his hands away from his face-- still bloody, still red-- and now his forearms were splattered with it too. Levi scrubbed ferociously at his skin, but the blood only continued to spread, coating him so thickly that he couldn’t believe it wasn’t dripping to the floor. He scrubbed until his skin felt raw and hot, but blood, blood, blood. All over his arms now, on his chest, wet on his face too.

It wouldn’t come off. The blood wouldn’t come off.

Levi stumbled into the shower, clumsy in the darkness and from his vision turning red. The blood was in his eyes now and once he managed to turn the shower on full-blast, he faced the spray head-on. The water was cold, but he stayed there, eyes clenched shut.

He felt dizzy, too dizzy to stand. He knew he should get out of the shower and lie down, but he didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to see his blood covering him. His blood? No, it wasn’t his, couldn’t be. The blood was-- the blood…

Levi shrank down to his knees, curling around his stomach. He felt like he might throw up. The blood wasn’t his. A name was forming in his mind, but his head was too crowded with piercing fear and smoldering anger and choking sorrow to allow the syllables of the name to take shape.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, but suddenly the water cut off. Levi heard someone talking to him, someone brushing his sopping wet hair out of his face and wrapping him in a towel, and he thought _Oscar_. But he didn’t open his eyes, not until Oscar murmured, “You’re safe, Levi, you’re safe. Please look at me.”

Levi cracked his eyes open. His vision was red no more and when he cautiously spread out his fingers, he saw that his hands were clean. The blood was gone. His head still throbbed something fierce and his stomach was still twisted into knots, but the blood had vanished without a trace.

He felt Oscar rubbing his back through the towel. Levi wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a comforting gesture or if he was trying to dry him off. “Are you all right? Do you want to come lie down?” he asked, voice low and still thick with sleep.

Levi looked up at him to answer and froze. He knew, intellectually, that he was looking at Oscar and his face was the same as always. Same wide nose, same strong eyebrows, same rich brown irises. But there was something else there, something that pulled the syllables of that distant name together into Levi’s head.

Eren Yeager.

The memory burst bright and red like a firework, stealing the breath right from his lungs.

_He isn’t surprised when Eren comes to him that night, but he almost doesn’t let him into his room. He doesn’t want to have this conversation. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever._

_He lets Eren in anyway._

_Eren stands at parade rest in the center of Levi’s scant bedroom. Levi doesn’t look at him, instead busying himself by sorting some clutter on his desk. His hands are trembling and he remembers, suddenly, how confident he’d felt when he first stared Eren down in that disgusting cell beneath the military courts. His confidence back then hadn’t been misplaced. Back then, it would’ve been-- not easy for him, no. Never easy._

_But it definitely wouldn’t have been this damn hard._

_“ **Captain** Levi,” Eren begins and Levi cuts him off right away._

_“ **I know why you’re here.** ” He still doesn’t look at him, though the few reports and pens that’d been scattered across his desk have already been put back into their proper place. Levi examines an ink stain on his desk, one he’d never been able to get out, and tries to stop his hands from trembling._

_The room is so quiet that he hears the deep breath Eren takes behind him. “ **Captain** Levi,” he says again, firmer this time. “ **I’m sorry, but--** ”_

**I’m sorry.** _The words ignite the anger that’s been flickering in his chest for days into a red hot, furious blaze. Levi spins to face Eren and snaps, “ **If you want me to do this, then stop fucking apologizing!** ”_

 _Levi’s eyes are burning. Not with anger, but with something else entirely. His hands are still trembling, fingers now curled into fists. Eren stares back at him unflinchingly and Levi hates how young Eren is still, how brave he’s become._ **How can you ask this of me?** _he wants to demand._ **How can you apologize and still ask this of me?**

_He wants to demand that Eren answer him, but Levi already knows what he will say. He understands why Eren is asking and, in a strange way, is even humbled by it. He shouldn’t feel humbled; after all, this has been their deal since the very beginning. But he is._

  
_It doesn’t make it any easier though._

_Eren’s expression is still apologetic, but he doesn’t repeat himself. Instead, he stands up straighter, squares his shoulders, and says-- very softly, very quietly-- a single word. “ **Please.** ”_

_And all Levi can do is agree._

Levi hadn’t cried then, but he did now, tears that are just as furious as they are sad. Oscar was alarmed at the outburst, hands leaving Levi’s back to cup his face, but Levi ducked away, shaking his head. “Asshole,” he muttered, scrubbing at his eyes. “You fucking asshole.”

“What? What is it?” Oscar asked, kneeling in front of Levi and somehow managing to make himself look small.

Levi had never been one for crying, so it didn’t take him long to compose himself enough to properly look at Oscar-- at _Eren_ \-- and tell him, “ **How can you ask me to kill you? You think I don’t-- that--** ”

“Levi. _Levi._ ” Oscar reached for him again and this time Levi let him, clinging to Oscar in return and unable to stop himself from digging his nails into the skin of Oscar’s back. Maybe it was supposed to be a punishment, but maybe it was just desperation. “ **I just don’t want it to be a stranger. If I have to die, I want it to be on my terms. And you’re the only one who I--** ”

“ **I know,** ” Levi interrupted. He pushed Oscar back to glare at him. “ **I fucking know. But I still don’t want to kill you, asshole.** ”

Oscar stroked Levi’s drying hair back with one broad hand. “It’s done now, Levi,” he said. “It’s done.”

He said it in English and the sound of the language confused Levi, but he realized that Oscar was right. They’d already taken Eren to the capital to kneel before a room of witnesses. He’d already stood behind Eren and squeezed his shoulder and cut clean through his neck, spilling Eren’s blood onto the stone floor and killing him in an instant.

It’d been necessary. Eren had asked it of him. But his stomach still writhed with nausea and Levi clenched his eyes against the headache jabbing the inside of his skull. “ **I don’t--** ” With some effort, he switched to English. “I don’t understand what’s happening,” he admitted.

“Do you know where you are?” Oscar asked.

This was all backwards. He was usually the one asking Oscar that after he had a flashback or panic attack, though it’d been several years now since he’d last done so. “Home. In the shower.”

Oscar smiled at him, very tentatively like he wasn’t sure if it was allowed. “Do you know who I am?”

“Oscar,” he answered immediately, then added, “...And Eren?”

Oscar nodded, smile widening, and-- despite his stomach’s discomfort and the way his legs and knees ached from kneeling on the shower floor-- Levi’s heart somersaulted like it always did. “Yes,” Oscar said. “ **Yes.** ” And then, as though he could no longer contain himself, he began to blurt out sentences at rapid fire. “I have a letter for you from your sister, Isabel. She died a long time ago now, but she wanted me to give it to you. And Mikasa, she’ll want to talk to you properly now that she can. Petra too, she might even fly down here, it’s not so far. And--”

“Slow down,” Levi protested, head pounding. He rose on quivering legs, Oscar rising with him and supporting him by the forearms. “I think… I need to lie down. It’s too much.”

“Of course,” Oscar said, helping him to the bed. "You should rest, Levi. Remembering... it's hard."

That was an understatement. Levi felt like he'd been hit by a bat.

Levi collapsed onto the bed, pulling Oscar down with him and curling against Oscar’s side. Once his head stopped hurting so much, he had a hundred questions he wanted to ask Oscar and another hundred things he needed to tell Eren. He had to ask how long Oscar had known everything and tell Eren about his funeral. He had to ask how in the hell Oscar had run into Isabel and tell Eren about all the discoveries Armin had made and how much Mikasa had grown as a leader. He had to ask Oscar what exactly was going on anyway and tell Eren that they did manage to find the ocean eventually and it was more breath-taking than anyone had dared to dream.

But not right now. Levi found Oscar’s hand in the dark, squeezing his fingers when he felt Oscar kissing his hair. They would have time to talk about all those things later, and much more.

After all, they had the rest of their lives.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long road to finally finishing this fic, but it's been a great journey all the same. I've met some wonderful people over the course of writing this fic and I am always touched by your kind comments. Thank you for reading my weird reincarnation fic, everyone. It has been wonderful sharing it with you.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this fic on-and-off for over a year and it has gone through several different concept phases before finally settling on what you see now. Basically, I really like reincarnation fic and I wanted to write my own, but I also wanted to have a sense of realism to it. So I established one main rule: you remember your past life when you reach the age you previously died at. Everything else fell in place from there. If one day you suddenly remember an entirely different life, what happens to the identity you held up until that day? That is what Oscar/Eren is grappling with and the core focus of this fic.
> 
> This fic is planned to be three parts with a brief epilogue. I'm hoping to update every four to six weeks, but I'm also very low on free time so that might be overly optimistic. Follow me on tumblr (zhedang) for occasional fic news and daily AoT blogging.


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